
En 




. The " Popular Edition " of Baker's Reading: Club and Handy 

2, 3, 4 and 5, 50 selections in each. Price 15 cents each. 




Copyright, 1876, by George M. Baker, 

HCrs. TFalthrop's Bachelors. Comedy iu Three Acts. Translated from German by George M. 

Baker. 25 <jeiit«. 
Xhe Fuiry of* the Fountain. Play for Little Folks. Two Acts. By George M. Baker. 25 cents. 
Coupon ISonilH. Drama in Four Acts. By J. T.Trowbridge. 25 cents. 
"Under a Veil. Commedetta in One Act. By Sir Randal Roberts. 25 cents. 
Clams I>ay. Farce in One Act. By Dr. F. A. Harris. 25 cents. 
TJncle Robert. Comedv in Three Acts. 7 male, 1 female character. 15 cents. 
The Wife's Secret. Play in Five Acts. 9 male, 3 female characters. 15 cents. 
Xhe Virslnia Veteran. Drama in Four Acts. 11 male, 4 female characters. 2£ cents. 



Spencer's Universal Stage. 



^ 



A Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted to either Public or Private 
Performance. Containing a full description of all the 
necessary Stage Business. 

PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH, m^ No Piays Exchanged. 



1. LOST IN LONDON. A Drama in 3 Acts. 

6 male, 4 female characters. 

2. NICHOLAS FLAM. A Comedy in 2 Acts. 

By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 3 female char. 

3. THE WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act. 

By Mrs. Planche. 3 male, 2 female char. 

4. JOHN WOPPS. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

"W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char. 

5. THE TUIIKISH BATH. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By Montague Williams and F. C. Bumand. 
6 male, 1 female char. 

6. THE TWO PUDDIPOOTS. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

7. OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 

Acts. By J. M. Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

8. TWO GENTLEMEN IN A Fi:^ A 

Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male'char. 

9. SMASHINGTON GOIT. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3 female char. 

10. TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By Lenox Home. 4 male, 
1 female char. 

11. JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. ByJ.M. 

Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

12. THE DAUGHTER of the REGIMENT. 

A Drama in 2 Acts. By Edward Fitzball. 
6 male, 2 female char. 

13. ATJNT CHARLOTTE'S MAID. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. >I. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

14. BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 

1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 3 female char. 

\5. DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char. 

16. DTJNDUCKETTY'S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. C male, 3 female char. 

17. I'VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female 
char. 

19. MY PRECIOUS BETSY. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char. 

20. MY TURN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char. 

22. THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By Chas. Selby. o male, 2 female char. 

23. DANDELION'S DODGES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char. 

24. A SLICE OP LUCK. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char. 

25. ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedy in 1 

Act. By Horace Wigan. 3 male, 3 female char. 
26 A BULL IN A CHINA SHOP. A Comedy 
in 2 Acts. By Charles Matthews. 6 male, 4 
female char. 

27. ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act. By 

Thomas Morton. 6 male, 3 female char. 

28. BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act. ByH. 

T. Craven. 4 male, 3 female char. 

29. COUSIN TOM. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By 

Geo. Roberts. 3 male, 2 female char. 
80. SARAH'S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 
Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3 female char. 

31. HIT HIM, HE HAS NO FRIENDS. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By E. Yates and N. H. Har- 
rington. 7 male, 3 female char. 

32. THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, G female char. 

33. A RACE FOR A WIDOW. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 4 female char. 

34. YOUR LIFE'S IN DANGER. A Farce in 

1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

35. TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 Acts. 
^ By J. Sheridan Knowles. 6 male, 2 female char. 



36. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude 

ill 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 10 male, 1 fiemale 
char. 

37. LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act 

By George A. Stuart, M. D. 6 male, 1 female 
char. 

38. MONSEIGNEUR. A Drama in 3 Acts. By 

Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3 female char. 

39. A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male char. 

40. BROTHER BEN. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. 

M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

41. ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act. 

By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char. 

42. GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER. A 

Drama in 3 Acts. By George Almar. 10 male, 
2 female char. 

43. SUNSHINE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. 

A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrence. 3 
male, 3 female char. 

44. DON'T JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 
female char. 

45. NURSE Y CHICKWEED. A Farce in lAct 

By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female nhar. 

46. MARY MOO ; or. Which shall I Marry? 

A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male, 1 
female char. 

47. EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 5 Acts. 8 male, 

7 female char. 

48. THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 5 Acts. 

By Robert Jones. 16 male, 7 female char. 

49. SILVERSTONE'S WAGER. A Commedi- 

etta in 1 Act. By R. R. Andrews. 4 male, 3 fe- 
male char. 

50. DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By Chas. 

Reade. 5 male, 2 female char. 
65. THE WIPE'S SECRET. A Play in 5 Acts. 
By Geo. W. Lovell. 10 male, 2 female char. 

56. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Com- 

edy in 3 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 10 male, 3 fe- 
male char. 

57. PUTKINS , Heir t J Castles in the Air. 

A Comic Drama in i Act. By W. R. Emerson. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

58. AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act 

By Thomas J. Williams. 3 male, 2 fiemale char. 

59. BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedy in 1 Act 

3 male, 2 female char. 

60. A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. A Comedy in 

1 Act 3 male, 2 female char. 

61. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 

Acts. 8 male, 7 female char. 

62. WHICH WILL HAVE HIM? A Vaude- 

ville. 1 male, 2 female char. 

63. MADAM IS ABED. A Vaudeville in 1 Act 

2 male, 2 female char. 

64. THE ANONYMOUS KISS. A Vaudeville. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

65. THE CLEFT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 

5 male, 3 female char. 

66. A SOLDIER. A SAILOR, A TINKER, 

AND A TAILOR. A Farce in 1 Act 4 male, 
2 female char. f 

67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

68. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce. 6 

male, 4 female char. 

69. A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Serio-comic 

Drama in 2 Acts. 5 male, 3 female char, f 

70. i^AYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic 
9 Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char. 



Descriptive Catalogtie mailed free on application to 

"" Geo. M. Baker,' 41-45 Franklin St., Boston. 



[§r= 



^ 



REBECCA'S TRIUMPH. 



a ©rama in €\}xtt ^cts. 

(for female charactees only.) 



WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR 

"THE L. O. C. COOKING CLUB" OF CHICAGO. 



/ 



GEORGE M. BAKER. 



31 



f 



BOSTON ; 
GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY. 

1879. 

7r 



^ 






^ 



^^H 



K^ 



Copyright, 1879, 

By GEORGE M. BAKER- 

All rights reserved. 



Franklin Press: 

Electrotyped and Printed by 

Rand, Avery, £p* Co,, 

Boston. 



CHARACTERS. 

Mrs. Rokeman, a wealthy lady (age forty). 

Mrs. Delaine, a widow (age sixty). 

Repecca, a foundling (age nineteen). 

Clarissa Codman, a spinster (age forty). 

Dora Gaines, ] 

Sadie Morrell, 

Jennie Woodman, 

Mellie Dunbar, j 

Emma Stevens, ^ Our Club. 

Grace Greenwood, 

Maria Gray, 

Alice Leeds, 

GussiE Green, 

Katie Conner, an Irish girl. 

Gyp, a colored girl. 

Meg, a vagrant. 

Time, three consecutive days in summer. 



COSTUMES. 

Mrs. Rokeman. Dark hair slightly streaked with gray or powdered. 
Different suits for the three acts, — walking, riding, and reception ; all 
summer dresses. 

Mrs. Delaine. Act I., calico dress, apron, gray wig, and cap. Act 
111., dark dress, li2;ht shawl, another cap and bonnet. 

Rebecca and ''Our Clitb.'^ Suitable dresses for the kitchen, the grove, 
and the parlor, in the three acts, varied in colors and style. 

Clarissa. Red hair front, with side ringlets ; wrinkled face, highly 
colored; girlish dresses, with lace mantles, and broad-brimmed straw hat. 

Kalie. Red hair and calicoes. 

Gyp. Woolley wig, black face, and black gloves for the hands ; caLco 
dress; turban for Acts II. and III. 

Meg. Powder hair neatly ; place over it a gray wig with long stream- 
ing hair. Wrinkle the face, but remove wrinkles before last appearance. 
Torn brown dress over a white skiit ; arms bare. Drape a gray shawl by 
fastening the middle on waist l., then carry the ends to right shoulder 
and cross them, fastening there, ends hanging down before and behind. 



REBECCA'S TRIUMPH. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Mrs. Delaine's kitchen^ backed by garden scene. 
In fiat R. large window reaching nearly to the fioor ; door 
L. in fiat J screen standing r., back^ behind which stove is 
supposed to be J door R., iiext screen; plain table against 
screen R, between door aud audience ; doori.. well up stage _; 
plain table against scene on that side ; plain table standing 
in c. ; chairs near each table ; white table-cloth over c. table^ 
which Mrs. Delaine takes ofi and folds as cui'tain rises ; 
Gyp at table 'k. polishing a tin pan with a cloth j music at 
rising of the curtain. 

Gyp. Dar, missus ! {holding up pan, and looking at the 
bottom as if it were a jnirror.) Dat ar bread-pan am got de 
polish. Now, let 'em talk about dar silber-white and dar 
stove-polish. T^U yer what, missus ! dar's nothin' like brack 
elbow-greese to gib de genuine lustre. Dat ar shines now 
jes like ole Daddy Brack's eyes when he got de lumbago, an' 
got 'em bad. 

Mrs. D. That's right, Gyp: make it shine. I want the 
cooking club to find every thing neat and tidy in my house. 

Gyp. Dar's no fear ob dat, missus : de Httle cookies will 
find ebery ting ready to upset, an' dey'll do dat shure's yer 
born. Mighty kind ob you, missus, to let 'em. 

Mrs. D. They are dear girls, with a laudable ambition to 
become good cooks ; and, if I can assist them, it is not only 
a pleasure, but a duty. Is the fire burning briskly. Gyp? 

Gyp {looking behind screen). Red-hot, missus. 



6 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Mrs. D. Fill the kettle and put it on. 

Gyp. Bress your soul, missus ! it's dere now, buzzing like 
a bumble-bee. 

Mrs. D. That's well. They will soon be here. 

{^Exit with cloth, door L. 

Gyp {comes to table, and takes tip pan). Dar ain't no non- 
sense 'bout my missus, she's jes as good as gold ; an' de 
goodness shines out ob her face brighter dan dis yere pan. 
An' dar's Miss Becky too, her 'dopted daughter, a born lady, 
dough she was picked up in de woods. Ebery ting quiet 
and nice about de house. Neber seed nuffin like it, an' I've 
lived round heaps. {Rubs pan.) 

(Katie passes window, and stands in door.) 

Katie. Is this the house I am afther huntin' .? {Comes 
down to table L.) Is Mrs. Mouslin in, I dunno.? 

Gyp. Missus, missus! — who's dat ar? 

Katie. Sure I said Mrs. Mouslin plain enough. 

Gyp. Dar's nobody here of dat name. My missus am 
Missus Delaine. 

Katie. To be sure, Mrs. Delaine. Faix ! I knew it was 
some kind of a cloth. Will, thin, I'm from the big house 
beyont, an' — an' I'm sint down wid a message. 

Gyp. Did — did you wipe your feet? 

Katie. Me fate, is it? Sure, I'd not be demaning me- 
self wiping me fate for a pine flure. I'm from the big house, 
I tell yees. I am quahty, I am. 

Gyp. Don't want no white trash here, nor poor quality. 
Go away ! 

Katie. I've come, and, bedad, it's not a black face will 
put me out of countenance, moind that, now ! 

Gyp. I won't have nuffin to do wid yer: I won't asswo- 
tiate wid white help. 

Katie. Well, I'd loike to know if it's the Ouane of Kam- 
scatta, or the Prancess of Guiney yees are, onyhow, that 
yees so high-flown wid yer blarney. 

Gyp. Don't want nuffin to do wid yees. Look at dar, 
look at dar ! {Points to floor.) Dar's de prints ob yer hoofs 
on de clean floor. {Goes to screen, and brings out broom.) 
Whare's your manners ? {Sweeps about Katie's /^^A) 

Katie {snatching bi'oom, and threatening Gyp with it). 
Out of that, or I'll swape you out ! (Katie moves to table R.) 
{Enter Mrs. D., door l.) 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. / 

Mrs. D. What's the matter here ? 

Katie. A bit of a shindy, ma'am : that's all. I'm from 
the big house, if yer plase, ma'am. 

Gyp. Didn't wipe her feet. 

Mrs. D. Gyp, be quiet ! 

Gyp. Brought in a heap of dirt. 

Mrs. D. Gyp! 

Gyp. Das a fac'. If I tole her fifty times, I tola her 
once, wipe her feet. 

Mrs. D. That's enough. Go into the wash-room: you 
will find plenty to do there. 

Gyp. Yas, missus. {Turns itp nose to Katie.) H'm! 
White trash ! {Exit door R ) 

^Mrs. D. Now, Katie, I will hear your message. 

Kati^. Will, thin, if yees plase, ma'am, Mrs. Rokeman, 
my missus, axed me would I rin down to the fut of the 
hill, and ax Mrs. Moushn (I mane Mrs. Delaine) would she 
be as kind and obleeging as to lend her the loan ov a twist. 

Mrs. D. Of what? 

Katie. Will, I don't know as I've just got that right. 
Och bother! You say Mrs. Delaine, Mrs. Rokeman, my 
missus, wants to take an airin' wid the fatone. 

Mrs, D. Mercy sakes ! what do you mean ? 

Katie. The littk wagon, wid the clothes-basket onto it, 

Mrs. D. You mean a phaeton. 

Katie. Yes, ma'am. I'm obleeged to you. Will, there's 
not a man about the place the day, an' the whales are a lit- 
tle shaky; and she thinks, could she have a twist, I could 
tighten them. 

Mrs. D. I see : you want a wrench. 

Katie. Sure that's it. I knew it was some koind of an 
ache. 

Mrs. D. I'll lend her one with pleasure. {Calls.) Gyp. 
{Enter Gyp.) 

Gyp. Yis, missus. 

Mrs. D. Take Katie Connor to the barn, and give her a 
wrench. 

Gyp. What! shake her, missus ? 

Katie. I'd loike to see ye doing it. 

Mrs. D. The carriage-wrench. Gyp. Come, be lively. 

Gyp. Yis, missus. Come along. Miss Quality. {Erit 
door c. ; passes window., and exits R.) 



8 Rebecca's triumph. 

Katie. I'm obleeged to yees. {Courtesies, and exits 
after Gyp.) 

Mrs. D. Mrs. Rokeman ask a favor of me ! the proud 
lady of the hill ! — she who deigns not to notice her humble 
neighbors ! Very strange ! 

{Enter Rebecca r. behind window >j 

Rebecca {at windoiv). Ah ! good Mother Chirrup, here 
I am. {Enter door.) I've given the boys and girls a half- 
holiday, and it would just do your dear old heart good to 
see their merry faces : and I am just as ready for a frolic 
as they are. Nobody here yet? 

Mrs. D. None of your club, but I have had a visitor. 
Just think of it ! — a message from the lady on the hill ! 

Rebecca. Mrs. Rokeman? 

Mrs. D. Yes. she has asked a favor of me; wanted to 
borrow. Think of that! — borrow of me! 

Rebecca. Well, don't be proud, Mother Chirrup. Mrs. 
Rokeman might borrow from you many virtues which I 
fear she sadly lacks. 

Mrs. D. She only wanted a wrench, Becky, to fix the 
carriage. 

Rebecca. Was that all ? 

Mrs. D, That was all. Dear me ! what a flutter it gives 
me, to be sure! And think of it! twenty years since we 
have spoken ! 

Rebecca. And you were her nurse ? Shameful neglect \ 

Mrs. D. Yes, twenty years ago Helen and Clara Delmar 
were handsome girls. Their father was a proud man : and, 
when Clara ran off with an artist, he disowned her; she has 
never been heard of since. Then Helen married Ralph 
Rokeman, a careless, good-for-nothing fellow, who broke his 
neck hunting in less than six months. Then Jasper Delmar 
died, and his widowed daughter has from tliat day to this 
lived solitary and alone in that grand old home. 

Rebecca. And never made any attempt to find her sis- 
ter? 

Mrs. D. Never, to my knowledge. On that matter we 
had bitter Avords, and parted. I came here, and we have 
never met since. 

Rebecca. And here you would have lived as solitary 
and alone as the lady on the hill, had not your charitable 
doors and your kind heart opened to receive the waif of the 
woods. 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 



Mrs. D. Ah, Becky ! Heaven sent you to be the comfort 
of my life. 

Rebecca. I hope I am grateful, Mother Chirrup, for all 
your kindness to me. Eighteen years ago a dead man was 
found lying in the woods, with a living child, scarcely a year 
old, beside him. The guardians of the parish buried the 
dead stranger, and proposed sending the child to the poor- 
house. But you, dear soul, took the child to your heart ; and 
no mother could have cared more tenderly for her own than 
you have for me. Heaven bless you, Mother Chirrup! 
{Throws her arms about Mrs. D.'s neck.) 

Mrs. D. Dear, dear me, Becky! You mustn't muss my 
cap ; for you know we are to have company. (Rebecca turns 
away.) Don't talk about that time, child : it always makes 
you sad. 

Rebecca. Is it strange.'* That man — who was he.? 
Could he have been my father.? Nothing about him to show 
who he was, or whence he came : nothing about me, save a 
ring suspended from m}^ neck, — this {points to Jir.ger\ — in- 
side of which is engraved the one word "• Remember." 

Mrs. D. Well, now, my child, it will all come out one of 
these days : if it doesn't, it is all the same. You have learned 
to take care of yourself ; and, when I am gone, all I have is 
yours. 

Rebecca. Dear Mother Chirrup ! {About to throw her 
arms about her.) 

Mrs. D. Stop! stop! — my cap. You know I don't like 
to be hugged so. You are a dear good girl, Becky : and, if I 
should lose you, it would break my heart. {Throws her ai-ms 
about Becky's neck, and sobs.) 

Rebecca {kisses her). Who's mussing now? {Laughs.) 
You don't like to be hugged ; but I do. 

(Meg appears at window.) 
Meg. 

" We were two sisters of one race: 
The wind is blowing in turret and tree." 

Thaf s right : make much of each other. You know not the 
day nor the hour when fate, cruel fate, shall break the bonds, 
and separate you forever. Ha, ha ! I know, — I know. {En- 
ters at door. When she appears at window, Mrs. D. and 
Rebecca separate r. and l.) 



10 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 



Mrs. D. Crazy Meg! Come in, Meg : you're always wel- 
come here. 

Meg. " Welcome ! " I heard that word long years ago. 
'Twas in a banquet-hall : the lights burned brightly; music 
filled the air. The bridegroom sat at the head of the table, 
and beside him the bride. Do you hear? the bride: 'twas 
I, Meg the outcast. Ha, ha! the bridegroom lifted high the 
brimming glass. A raven black as night sprang through the 
casement, dashed the glass from his hands, the lights went 
out, and I was left in darkness. The bridegroom — where is 
he? I can never find him, — never! {Si?iks ifito chair by 
table R., and buries her face in her arm.) 

Mrs. D. Ah ! there's a sad story there. 

Rebecca {lays her hand on Meg's shotilder). Cheer up, 
Meg : you are among friends. 

Meg {slowly lifting her head, and looking at Rebecca). 
Ah! you are the schoolmistress. I've seen you with troops 
of girls and boys about you, with eager faces looking up at 
you. They love you ; and I hunger for the sight of one 
little baby face that looked into mine, and smiled so sweetly I 
O baby, baby ! 

Rebecca. You, Meg ? have you a child ? 

Meg {quickly). No, no ! Who told you I had .? 

Rebecca. I understood you to say — 

Meg. No, you cannot understand me : something's wrong 
here {taps forehead), so the doctors say. Don't mind me: I 
am only Meg, — crazy Meg. 

Rebecca. Meg, you look tired and weary: this wander- 
ing life is killing you. That litde hut in the woods is a lor.e- 
some place. Come and live with us: you shall be made 
comfortable here. We have plenty of room, and would be 
glad to have you. 

Meg. You cannot mean it, pretty face. I am old and 
ugly : your neat home will be disfigured by my presence. 
No, no ! let me wander. 

Rebecca. You know not how tender care will transform 
you. {Kneels at her side.) Look at me, Meg ! I was once 
as poor ns you. When a little child, I was left alone in the 
wild woods to die. 

M EG {starijig at her). You ? 

Rebecca. Yes, I: no mother, no father; no one in the 
wide world to claim me or care for me. But that sood woman 



REBECCAS TRIUMPH. II 

there took the strange, forsaken one to her arms, as she will 
now take you, poor outcast. 

Meg (looks at her eagerly). Alone in the woods ! — you ? 
{Starts to her feet) Oh, let me go from here quick ! Your 
face, your words, shape far-off memories that they told me I 
must forget, or I should go mad, — mad. {Crosses to L.) 

Mrs. D. Meg, you must be hungry : let me get you some- 
thing to eat. 

Meg. No, no ! I cannot eat. 

Rebecca. A cup of tea ? 

Meg. No, no! I must have air! — air! {Goes up totter- 
ing. Rebecca piits Iter arm about her waist) 

Rebecca. You are faint and ill. You shall not go until 
you are rested. Come , everybody in this house obeys me, 
and so must you. 

Meg {looks 7ip in her face). You've a kind heart, pretty 
face. Somewhere in the future you'll be the light of a 
happy home. Do with me as you will. There's something 
in your iace calms me, overcomes me. {Kisses her haiid) 
I am your slave forever. {Miisic. Rebecca slowly leads 
her off door l.) 

Mrs. D. That's a wonderful girl : I must say it, if I did 
have the bringing of her up. She's mastered every thing 
she sets about; and, last of all, wild Meg, who's been 
such a roaming vagabond round here for the last six 
months ! Nobody knows who she is, or where she comes 
from ; but, if Becky don't find out before she's done with her, 
I'm mistaken. 

{Enter Gyp by window^ through door) 

Gyp. Missus, de cookies am coming:, heard 'em on de 
hill, laughing and singing like a Mefodis' camp-meeting. 
Precious little work dey'll do dis yer aternoon. 

{Chorus outside. Air, '•''Nancy Lee.'') 

The kitchen-fire does brightly glow, 

You know, girls, know, you know, you know; 

The shining pans hang in a row, 

You know, girls, know, you know; 

And all is neat and snug and sweet 

For you and me 
To brew and bake, to mould and make, 

Or frolic free. 
Our happy day will pass away 

With mirth and glee, 



12 REBECCAS TRIUMPH. 



1 



You know, girls, know, you know ; 

The dainty dish the maiden's pride shall be. 

You know, we go, to work with glee. 

The dainty dish the maiden's pnde'shall be; 

The dainty dish our pride shall be. 

{When the song reaches '^The dainty dish the maiden^' s 
pride,'' &>€., the singers appear behind window, finish it, and 
then with a laugh Jiock into the kitchen-door as follows, — 
Dora, Sadie, Jennie, Mellie, Emma, Grace, Maria, 
Alice, and Gussie. Mrs. D. is near table r. ; Gyp at table 
left.) 

Dora {running up to Mrs. D., and taking both hands 
with a vigorous shake). How d'ye do, Mother Chirrup? 
Here we are, you see. {Crosses to Gyp.) How d'ye do. Gyp? 
{All follow her example ; make it lively.) 

Mrs. D. Glad to see you, girls: we are all ready for you. 

Gyp. Das a fac'. 

Dora. Of course you are; and, if I'm not mistaken, 
you'll be glad to see the last of us. You heard my new song? 
Original, — quite original. Words and music both my own, 
— a musical cake made out of my own head. 

Girls (/« chorus). O Do ! {Laugh.) 

Dora, No : there is no dough about it. 

Gyp. Den how could yer make it out ob your own head? 
{Girls laugh.) 

Dora. O Gyp ! how could you ! Come, girls : off with 
your hats, and on with your aprons. {Girls take off hats, 
aiid pile them on Gyp's arms; then each one takes apron 
from pocket and puts it 07i, talking together. Gyp carries 
hats off door l. ; then some of the girls sit in the chairs, 
others behind them) 

Sadie. What's the programme? 

Mrs. D. Becky will be here in a moment. {Exit door J..) 

Nellie. Becky is mistress to-day. 

Emma. I'm glad of that: she always has some new dish. 

Maria. She'll want more new dishes when we are gone. 
{Girls laugh.) 

Dora. Yes, if we undertake to make pumpkin-pies, as 
we did at j^our house. 

Sadie. When Maria and Jennie undertook to put the 
pies in the oven — 

Dora. And their heads came. together: the pumpkin- 



REBECCAS TRIUMPH. I3 

pies were transformed to squash {girls laugh) and turn- 
overs. {Laugh.) 

Maria, 1 couldn't help it. The floor was slippery, and 
the time short. 

Dora. But the pfe-crust wasn't. {Laugh.) Here's Becky. 
{Enter Rebecca, door l.) Hail to the chief — cook ! How 
d'ye do, Becky .-* {All flock about her., with how dye-does, 
hand-shakes, and hugs.) 

Rebecca. Don't smother me, girls ! 

Dora. Well, here we are, armed and equipped as the 
law of cooking directs. What is it? — pies, cakes, or fancy 
dishes ? A dainty dish for me. {All sing last part of softg.) 

-''The dainty dish," &c. 

Rebecca. Suppose we try cake to-day. I've found a 
nice receipt among Mrs. Miller's " In the Kitchen " {shows 
book), — " Rebecca's Triumph." 

Girls {iji chorus). Good ! let's have it. Read it, Becky. 

Rebecca {i^eads), " Rebecca's Triumph," — " Half a pound 
of butter, one and a quarter pounds of sugar, eighteen ounces 
of flour, one ounce of blanched almonds cut in strips, one 
ounce of raisins stoned, half a pint of milk, one and a half 
tablespoonfuls of baking-powder sifted into the flour, six 
eggs ; cream the butter, and add the sugar gradually, with a 
little of the milk, to make them mix ; beat the whites and 
yolks together until light, then stir them into the butter and 
sugar; add the rest of the milk 'and the flour, then the 
almonds and raisins. Bake in loaves." There it is : shall 
we try it .? 

Dora. Of course. Those in favor of trying " Rebecca's 
Triumph" say "Ay!" 

Girls. Ay ! 

Dora. 'Tis a unanimous vote. 

Gussie. You didn't count the noes. Do. 

Dora. Yours wouldn't count, Gussie, if it was called : 
it's too small. " Rebecca's Triumph : " there's something 
high-toned in the name, and, as Becky is to be the manager 
of this occasion, very appropriate. Come, Becky : give your 
orders, and we'll get to work. 

Rebecca. You all know where to find things in this 
house. First for eggs, the freshest and best. Alice and 
Maria will find them in the barn {exeunt by door Alice 



14 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

and Maria, who pass wifidow). Grace will look after the 
butter and sugar (Grace 7'ims off door r.); Sadie, the milk 
(Sadie passes out of door-Jlat, passes window)-, Jennie and 
Mellie, the flour and baking-powder (Jennie and Mellie 
exeunt door r.). Emma will take care of the raisins, and 
Gussie will look after the tins (Emma and Gussie exeimt 
door r.). There, I believe all are set to work. 

Dora. Except me. 

Rebecca. You, Dora, may blanch the almonds. 

Dora. All right. {Takes Becky's hand) That's a 
pretty ring you wear. I never noticed it before. 

Rebecca. 'Tis very dear to me. 

Dora. It's too large for your finger. Take care, or 
you'll lose it some day. {Exit R.) 

Rebecca. Lose it. No, no ! 'Tis all I have to unite 
me with the past, — that mysterious past, whose darkness I 
sometimes think will be dispelled by this ring, with its 
motto " Remember." I know not why it was hung about 
my neck : but something long ago told me it was my moth- 
er's ; that she must be dead, or she would not have parted 
with it; that its motto tells of loving vows, and hopes of 
happiness, perhaps blasted by misfortune. To me it is very 
precious. {Kisses it.) " Remember." Yes, mother, though 
we may never meet on earth, by this token you are ever near 
and dear to me. {Exit door l.) {Lively music. Gussie rujts 
071 from door r. with an earthen dish for mixing; places it 
on table c, then runs off door R. Dora runs on from door 
R. with almonds in dish ; places it on table L., then rtms 
behind screen R. Gussie runs on with boiul and cups for 
breaking and beating the eggs ; also beater_, places them on 
table \i.,and runs off door v.. Alice and Maria run on 
behind, past windozu, in at door, down to table L., and break 
a?id beat the eggs. Grace 7-uns on door l. with butter and 
sugar ; goes to table c, and creajns butter, and adds sugar. 
Sadie 7'uns 07i f'07)i outside with milk, and assists. Gus- 
sie runs to c. table, a7id helps. Jennie rutis on f7'07n door l. 
with four and sifter, and sifts flour at table r. Emma 
bri7igs 071 7'aisi/is f7-om door R. ; sits 7iear R. table, and stones 
raisi7is. All lively-, chatter a7id talk, if they please. Music, 
pia7iissi7no, so the voices can be hea7'd. E7iter Gyp door l.) 

Gyp. Bress my soul ! it am as busy here as a barbecue. 
{Crosses to table R.) Miss Jennie, let me do dat ; dat's no 
kind of work for your lily fingers. 



Rebecca's triumph. 15 

Jennie {takes her hand out of the flour^ and lays it on 
Gyp's cheeky leaving it white.) No, I thank you, Gyp: it 
whitens them, don't you see ? 

Gyp {wiping his face). Don't do dat, chile : folks'll tink 
1 powder. 

Dora {behind sa-een). Clear the way ; for I am coming. 
{Appears with tea-kettle; crosses stage to table L.) 

Gyp {coming to table l.). Dat's too heaby for you. Miss 
Dora. Let me do dat. {Just as she reaches table, and puts 
out her ha7id, Dora pours boiling water on almonds.) Oh, 
massy sakes, you've burnt me ! {Holds her hand., and datices 
about stage. Music stops.) 

Dora {carrying the kettle back behind screen). Sorry, 
Gyp ; but children should never put their fingers into the 
sugar-bowl without leave. 

Gyp {blowing her hand). Oh ! she's smart, she is. But 
dar's going to be trouble here. If dey don't blow de roof off 
afore dey gits frough, den you can call me Misstook. I'll 
jes put myself out ob de way. {Exits door C, and passes 
window^ 

Dora {returns to table, singing). 

Air, " Oh ! give me a Cot in the Valley I love*"* 

Oh ! give me a place in the kitchen I love, 
A cake in the oven, a fire in the stove, 
I care not how heavy, contented I'll be, 
If some one will eat it when cooked by me. 

{Girls laugh.) 

Jennie. Come, Mellie : hurry with the baking-powder. 

{Enter Mellie with a bottle and knife j sojnething in the 
bottle to fly, — soda or mineral-water.) 

Mellie. Can't find the powder. Here's a bottle of 
yeast : won't that do t {Cuts string; cork flies ; all scream. 
Some jump on chairs ; while Mellie flies around, and 
tries to stop the fermentation with her hands) 

Jennie. You careless thing ! that won't do at all. {Enter 
Rebecca door l.) 

Rebecca. What's the matter? {takes bottle from Mel- 
lie.) You want the baking-powder: I'll find it. {Exit door 
R.) 

Jennie. Well, Mellie Dunbar, I hope you're satisfied 
now. See what a mess you've made ! 



i6 Rebecca's triumph. 



Dora. Yes, Mellie's made a melancholy failure. {Enter 
Rebecca with baking-powder^ 

Rebecca. Here it is, Mellie {gives her box : she goes to 
table R.). Now let me see how you are getting along {goes 
fro7n one to the otJier). 

(Clarissa appears at door in flat >j 

Clarissa {with an affected drawl). Why, how de do, 
girls .'' Hard at work t This is de-lightful ; pos-i-tively 
charming ! 

Dora. Mercy ! there's the old maid ! Now won't we 
catch it ! 

Rebecca. Ah ! good afternoon, Miss Codman. Walk in. 

Clarissa. Thank you. {Etiters attd comes c, looking 
abont with an eyeglass.) So domestic ! It reminds me of 
my early days, when I used to make dirt-pies in my little 
garden with my little brother. 

Dora. I don't see how you can remember that : it must 
have been years and years ago. 

Clarissa. Oh, no ! I have not yet lost the springing 
steps of girlhood, the rosy dreams of youth. My gentle 
heart thrills at the passionate appeals of the lover in my 
reading, and I grow brave at the daring exploits of the 
heroine of romance. I feel as if I could do brave deeds 
myself, — " beard the Hon in his den, the Douglas in his 
hall." 

Dora {screams, and J7imps upon chair). A mouse, a 
mouse ! {Girls screa?n, and gather their skirts about the7n. 
Mellie sits on table., and others jump on chairs. Clarissa 
runs down to L. corner, opens her pai'asol, and points it at 
the floor.) 

Rebecca {comes c). Nonsense, girls ! Where did you 
see it, Dora .? 

Dora {jumps fro7n chair). " In my mind's eye, Horatio." 

Jennie. You hateful thing! 

Sadie. You ought to be ashamed of yourself! {Girls 
resume work) 

Dora. I couldn't help it. Miss Codman looked so brave, 
that I wanted to scare up some game for her. 

Clarissa. Oh, a joke ! Ha, ha ! A joke ! Girls are so 
sportive ! {Aside) I'd like to shake the hussy! 

Dora {hands chair). Take a seat, Miss Codman : you're 
all of a tremble. 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 1/ 

Clarissa (s/ls in comer). Thank you. Don't let me in- 
terrupt your delicious pastime, it is so conducive to health, 
so useful as a preparation for that domestic hfe which must 
come to us all at last. {Sighs) Heigh-ho ! 

Jennie. I wonder if she expects it to come to her. 

Mellie. While there is life, there is hope. 

Clarissa. I have just been to the post-office. I found a 
letter awaiting me, a tender epistle, from you know who, 
Rebecca, — my mysterious correspondent, Theophilus Mon- 
tague. 

Rebecca. I remember you told me you had received a 
note from an unknown correspondent. I also remember I 
advised you to treat it with contempt. 

Clarissa. I could not do that. It was so respectful, so 
eloquent of sincere admiration, so tremulous with suppressed 
passion, that I fell into the epistolary snare set to capture my 
sensitive and susceptible heart. I answered it with tender 
lines, that fed the flame of love ; and he writes again, so 
sweet, so tender f {Kisses paperi) Do let me read you a 
few lines. 

Chorus of Girls. Oh, do, do, do ! 

Clarissa {opens note, and reads), " Charming Clarissa ! " 

Girls {in chorus). Oh, splendid ! 

Clarissa {reads). " Your dainty epistle has reached me. 
It now reposes near my heart, adding fuel to the fire that 
flames within me." 

Dora. Won't the oven get too hot? 

(Grace rnns behind screen., then returns to tabled 

Clarissa {looks around., then reads). " It needs but one 
thing more to make it rise " — 

Jennie to Mellie. A little more baking-powder! 

Clarissa {looks around., then reads). "Like the fabled 
phoenix from its ashes, to soar to the Elysium of your love." 

Dora. That's too lovely for any thing ! 
(Rebecca goes to table., c. to mix the cake. Stands behind 

it.) 

Clarissa {reads). " What can I bring you, dearest," - — 

Rebecca. Eggs, Alice ! (Alice carries the beaten eggs 
to Rebecca.) 

Clarissa. Eggs : oh ! excuse me. {Reads) " To obtain 
the one thing I desire," — 

Rebecca. Flour, Jennie! Qennie carries Jlour to Re- 
becca.) 



1 8 Rebecca's triumph. 

Clarissa {irritated). " Your sweet* consent to our wed- 
ding nuptials. I have no gold ; but I have " — 

Rebecca. A little more milk, Sadie ! 

Clarissa. Oh, this is mockery ! 

Dora. Oh, go on, go on ! It's splendid! 

Girls {in cJwrtis). Lovely ! Go on, go on ! 

Clarissa. " A heart, and in that heart are " — 

Rebecca. Raisins, Emma ! (Emma carries raisins?^ 

Clarissa. Oh ! {desperately) " High hopes and " — 

Rebecca. Almonds, Dora ! (Dora carries up abnonds. 
The girls ai'e all about table, watching Rebecca, and for- 
getting Clarissa.) 

Clarissa {desperately). " High hopes and noble aspira- 
tions " {waits for an exclamation : all silent. She slowly 
turns round, and looks at the girls ; then folds the note, and 
puts it in her bosom). This is " wasting sweetness on the 
desert air." I'll go home, and in the silence of my chamber 
brood over the love-lit words from the flowery pen of pas- 
sion. ' O my Theophilus ! unseen, unknown, but not unloved, 
No more your precious missives are to be intrusted to 
the prying eyes of the plebeian post-mistress. You have 
named a trysting-tree in the gloomy forest, within whose 
hollow trunk henceforth our epistolary messages of iove 
are to nest themselves. I will remember, and to-morrow 
convey my answer to its oaken keep. {Straightens up,.puts 
parasol imder her arm^ and marches up to door in flat, and 
oft, past window.) 

Rebecca. Now, Gussie, we are all ready for the pans. 
(GussiE ru7is off r.) Miss Codman, go on, if you please. 

Dora {tmiis aroiind). Go on. -She's gone off! 

Girls {t7ir7i around). Oh, that's too bad ! 

Jennie {comes down R.). I wanted to hear the last of that 
letter. 

Dora. Did you ? So 3'ou shall. I know every word in 
it ; for I wrote it. I am {puts her thumbs, as a man would 
in the arm-holes of his vest, and struts down to Jennie) 
Theophilus Montague. 

Jennie. What! you, Dora? 

(Gussie enters door r with the cake-pans) 

Dora. Yes; and I've had such fun! She really believes 
that some mysterious individual, who, on account of his 
poverty, is afraid to seek an introduction, has taken this ro- 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. IQ 

mantic way of making his affection known. Oh, if you could 
only read her epistles! — such gushing moonshine, such 
ridiculous nonsense ! But I wouldn't show them for the 
world. You know we are to have a picnic to-morrow m the 
grove ; and, to give a little fun to the occasion, I have con- 
trived to make a post-office of the old oak. So to-morrow, if 
you don't see fun, then my name is not Dora Gaines. 

Rebecca. One loaf is ready, Dora. Will you put it in 
the oven? 

Dora. Yes, indeed. {Goes tip to table, takes pan, and 
carries it behind screen.) 

Gyp {outside). O missus !, missus ! here's trubble ! {I^ims 
in door c.) 

Rebecca. What's the matter, Gyp ? 

Gyp. Let me get my breff. Dat lady up to de house on 
the hill is jest runnin' away down de road. One wheel off 
de hub, and she jest hangin' on, an' dat are horse flyin' ! 

Rebecca {runs to door). It's Mrs. Rokeman {runs off R. 
by the window). 

Gyp. Bress my soul ! She's nebber goin' to try to stop 
dat ar horse ! Break her neck, sure ! (Girls rtin off behind 
window, and stand looking off R. Gyp stands at door, with 
hand shading her eyes, looking off v..) 

Dora {rims out, by Gyp, among the Girls). Who is it? 
Where is it ? What is it ? 

Jennie. Mrs. Rokeman's horse is running away, and I 
do believe Becky's going to try and stop him ! 

Dora. Of course she is. See! she has reached the 
horse ! She is running with it ! Now her hand is on the 
bridle: still she runs. Now she draws it tight. He's drag- 
ging her from her feet. No: his pace slackens. She has 
him now! Bravo, Becky ! 

Girls {clap their hands). Bravo, bravo ! 

Dora. She's all rioht now. Mercy ! my cake ! {Runs in 
and behind screen ; girls return.) 

Gyp {at door). She's a bringin' dat ar lady here. Speck 
I'd better look arter de horse. {Exit past window R. Girls 
carry ojff pans, &^c., door r. Pa7i with one loaf of cake left 
on table c. Enter, passing by window, and through door, 
Rebecca, with her ar?n about Mrs. Rokeman, whose 
hand is on her shoulder; seats her in chair near table c. A 
little music while this is going on.) 



20 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 



Rebecca. You are safe now, madam. 

Mrs. R. Thanks to you, my dear girl. You have saved 
my life; My wheel slipped off on the hill, and frightened 
the horse. My hold on the phaeton was relaxing. In 
another moment I should have been hurled out upon the 
rocky road. Mine is but a worthless life. I have prayed 
for death many and many a night ; but, when it was so near 
me, I felt how dear and precious hfe is. 

Rebecca. I am glad I have been of service. But .1 
think you overrate the danger. The carriage is low, and a 
slip into the road would have been a frolic to me. 

Mrs. R. Ah ! you are young and happy ; you have 
become strong by exercise : while I am weak and timid. 
The shock and the fear would have killed me. How can I 
repay you ? 

Rebecca. By saying nothing more about it. I shall 
begin to think I am a heroine, if you make so much of a sim- 
ple affair. {Girls retur7ij some come down R., others pass to 
L.) Why, any of our club would have done the same, and 
thought nothing of it : wouldn't you, girls .'' 

Dora (r.). Speak for yourself, Becky. There's not an- 
other girl in our club brave enough to think of any thing 
but screaming at sight of a runaway horse. 

Jennie (l.). I guess not : catch her near a horse's heels ! 

Sadie. We should all run the other way : wouldn't we, 
girls ? 

Chorus of Girls. Yes, indeed I 

Mrs. Rokeman. May I ask what "our club" is? 

Dora. A cooking-club, Mrs. Rokeman. We've been 
experimenting to-day with one of Becky's receipts for cake. 
She calls it " Becky's Conquest." 

Girls {laugh). O Dora ! 

Dora. No: "Rebecca's Triumph." And I know it's 
just splendid. You see, we visit each other's homes, any- 
where we are invited. 

Mrs. R. Indeed ! Then allow me to extend a cordial in- 
vitation to "our club" to visit my home. I am a lonely 
woman, and the sight of your merry faces in my house 
would be a pleasure'to me. 

Girls. Oh ! thank you. 

Rebecca. I fear we should intrude. We are a noisy 
set when allowed our liberties. 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 21 

Mrs. R. The more noise, the better. I should like to 
taste your cake. 

Dora (r.). It's cooking now. It won't be nice to eat to- 
day. 

Mrs. R. Then suppose you set a day to visit me, and 
bring me a morsel of your cake. Let me see. This is Tues- 
day. Suppose we say Thursday. Would that be agreea- 
ble? 

Girls. Oh, yes ! — splendid! 

Mrs. R. Then we will consider it settled. 

Rebecca. O girls ! my ring ! I've lost my ring ! I must 
have dropped it in the road. 

Dora. I'll go and find it. {Goes up to door.) 

Jennie. So will I. {Follows) 

Girls. We'll all go. {Trip out of door., and past win- 
doWy singing, — 

" A dainty dish, the maiden's pride, " &c.) 

Rebecca {comes dowjt r. ; Mrs. Rokeman watches her). 
Oh ! if it should be lost ! Without it, now, I feel as if part 
of my life had gone from me. 

Mrs. R. {rises, a7id comes down). I have been watching 
you, child. Something in your face is strangely familiar. 
Have we ever met before ? 

Rebecca. Not to my knowledge. 

Mrs. R. Who are you? 

Rebecca. The schoolmistress in the place, — the adopted 
daughter of Mrs. Delaine. 

Mrs. R. My old nurse ! Where is she? 
{Enter Mrs. D., door l.) 

Mrs. D. Here, Mrs. Rokeman! 

Mrs. R. Mary, my dear old nurse ! {Holds out hands.) 
Can you forgive me ? 

Mrs. D. {takes hands, and p7'esses thejn warmly). I have 
nothing to forgive, Miss Helen. 

Mrs. R. My neglect? 

Mrs. D. Don't speak of it! We parted in anger twenty 
years ago. You thought you was right, and I knew I was. 
With so strong a difference of opinion, we could scarcely 
remain friends ; and, if I cannot have friends, I wish no 
acquaintances. 

Mrs. R. Still obstinate, I see ! 



22 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Mrs. D. On that point, yes. I told you you did not treat 
your sister fairly, and twenty years have not changed that 
opinion. 

Mrs. R. {proudly). Neither have they mine. My sister 
left her happy home to follow an adventurer, with no legal 
right to bear his name. 

Mrs. D. That's false ! He was her husband. 

Mrs. R. Have you any proof of that.? 

Mrs. D. The best. Her birth, her education, her true 
and noble heart, — all proofs of her goodness, virtue, and 
truth. 

Mrs. R. I want stronger proof. No distance would have 
separated her from her home forever; no circumstances shut 
out the love from her heart, save shame. 

Mrs. D. Have you sought for proofs ? 

Mrs. R. No. 

Mrs. D. Is she living, or dead t 

Mrs. R. I do not know. I have not dared to search, lest 
my worst suspicions should be realized. Heaven knows I 
loved her, — love her still ; but ours is a proud name, and no 
blot of shame shall ever tarnish it while I live. No more of 
this. Your adopted daughter has done me a great service. 
I would befriend her. Give her to me. I will be a mother to 
her, and, should she prove worthy, make her my heiress. 

Mrs. D. What ! my Becky heiress to the grand estate, 
the Delmar name ? Do you hear, Becky? 

Rebecca. I hear. 

Mrs. D. Why, here's a brilliant future for you, Becky! 
Heiress! — why, Becky, I never dreamed of such good for- 
tune ! 

Mrs. R. Rebecca, will you go with me t 

Rebecca {quietly). Thank you, no. I am happy here, — 
my own mistress, and quite content. 

Mrs. D. Becky, you are mad to refuse such an offer. 

Becky. Do you think so ? My happiest days have been 
spent in this dear home. The first, best love of life, a 
mother's, I have found in your dear heart. There is nothing 
sweeter, purer, better, in this Avorld, than that. {Throws her 
ar??7s about Mrs. D.) You have won me : you shall keep 
me. 

• Mrs. D. {huggi7tg ^y.cky). I knew I should, my Becky! 
Oh, I'm a happy old woman ! 



rebec!ca's triumph. 23 

Mrs. R. {turfis to r. aside). Oh, how I envy them ! From 
my lonely habitation, rich in all that wealth can purchase, I 
can look out on broad lands stretching far, o'er fields and 
woodlands, beautiful in fruits and ripening grain, and call 
them mine. Yet here's a simple girl, whose love I covet, 
turns away from all that might be hers to homely life with 
all its cares, — contented, happy in the love that nursed her 
into life. Oh, I am poor indeed ! {Sinks into chair near 
table R., and covers her face with her hands.) 

Song outside I.. Meg. Air^'-^TiredP 

Sisters were we, yes, sisters true, 

In our old happy home : 
No saddening shadows then we knew ; 

And now 1 lonely roam. 
I'm longing to meet, yes, meet again, — 

Longing for her embrace : 
The glooming shadows fall again, 

Forever to hide her face, 

{During the singing Mrs. R. looks up and about her, vety 

?nuck affected. Rebecca stands l. with Mrs. D., their 

arms about each other, listening.) 

Mrs. R. Who is that singing .'* Whose voice ? Tell me 
quick ! 

Rebecca. That is wild Meg, as she is called, — a poor 
half-crazy wanderer, whom I have put to rest in my room. 

Mrs. R. Wild Meg! But that voice ! those words ! I 
must see her {rises) at once {goes towards door l). 
{Enter Meg door l. Chord. They stand and look at each 
other.) 

Mrs. R, {stepping back). No : this is the face and form of 
an old woman. It was the song which deceived me. 

Meg. Deceived ! Have you been deceived ? So have I. 
Ha, ha ! You are rich and proud, — rings on your fingers, 
jewels in your ears ; and I'm in rags. Yet we are sisters. 

Mrs. R. {agitated). How ? — what mean you ? 

Meg {poi?its tip). In the sight of Heaven, rich and poor, 
high and low, brothers and sisters all, sent to love, but 
remain to hate each other ! I could tell you a story, lady, of 
two sisters, that would make your heart bleed with pity. 
They were rich ; but one married a poor man. The father 
disowned her ; and the sister, when the riches became hers, 
forgot her, for fear she might come and claim her share. 



24 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Mrs. R. No, no ! 'Tis false 1 She had no such motive. 

Meg. Ah ! you know her? 

Mrs. R. I tis my own story, which you have picked up 
in your wanderings about here. Be careful, woman ! There 
is more of cunning than madness in you ; and, if you prate of 
my affairs, I'll have you locked up where your ravings will 
not be heard. Remember ! 

Meg {starts). Remember {aside): no, no! {Aloud.) Re- 
member you! — there will come a time when your proud 
head shall lie in the dust. Cunning! — yes, so cunning, that 
I could tell you the two sisters loved one man. They pledged 
each other that his choice should be sacred; pledged each 
other with rings. No matter what came : their love for each 
other should continue. He chose the younger, and the sis- 
ter— 

Mrs. R. Woman, who are you ? 

Meg. One who never did you wrong ; one who from the 
stars obtains secrets ; who hopes for justice, prays for justice, 
and so is mad ! — ha, ha ! — mad, mad ! 

{Exit by door c. tt> L.) 

Mrs. R. From the stars? No, no! this woman is an 
emissary of my sister, trusted with secrets of ours, and sent 
to goad me into madness. She shall be driven from the place. 
{Talks with Rebecca l.) 

Girls {outside). Ha, ha, ha ! 

DoYiA {outside). Come along: it's no use to search any 
more. {Enter Dora a7id others door r. Come down r. and 
L.) Becky, the ring is not in the road: you must have 
dropped it about the" house. 

Rebecca. Then it's sure to be found: so give yourselves 
no more trouble. Have you looked at the cake, Dora? 

Dora. Goodness gracious, the cake ! {ru7is behind screen) 

Mrs. R. {to Rebecca). I'm sorry you cannot come and 
live with me ; but you will come often and see me ? 

Rebecca. Thank you, if it will please you. 

Mrs. R. I shall expect to see you all on Thursday, and 
that wonderful cake. 

ViO'^K {appears from behind screen with pan. in which is 
a very black cake). The cake can't come : it's gone into 
mourning. 

Jennie. Completely ruined I 

Girls. Oh, dear ! 



Rebecca's triumph. 25 

Mrs. D. {lifting her hands). . Well done ! 

Dora. Yes, it is well done, — over-done. 

Rebecca. No matter: we've another loaf. 

Dora. Thank Goodness for that. 

Mrs. R. You will find a warm welcome awaiting you at 
Delmar. It will be red-letter day in my lonely life. Do 
not disappoint me. {M-eg passes door from i..) Remember! 

Meg {at window). Remember! — ha, ha! Gather the 
young and merry about you ; seek to banish the bitter past. 
Your efforts are vain. Out of shadows points a skeleton 
finger, and in your blasted heart is imprinted in letters of fire 
one word, — " Remember ! " 

(Mrs. R. sinks into chair right of table c. ; Mrs. D. ru7is 
to her, and stands behind chair; Rebecca kjieels, and takes 
her hand, looking up at her face; girls grouped r. and L. ; 
Meg behind window, with finger pointing at Mrs. R. 
Soft music, slow Curtain) 

END FIRST ACT. 



26 Rebecca's triumph. 



ACT II. 

The Picnic. Scene. — A grove ; flat a wood; c, three feet 
from back, set tree with branches reaching over and into 
side-scene R., forming an arch; same on left, but a wider 
opening; at R., tree with hollow trunk, bank ; L. rustic 
bench, before c. tree; swing hung behind opening ; R. c. to 
swing; r. attd L. past opening; chorus ; commence a little 
before rising of the curtain ; then rise on picture. Re- 
becca seated on bench c. ; Jennie seated on stage beside 
her, with her arm thrown across Rebecca's lap ; Sadie 
in the swing, singing; Grace on bench l. ; Mellie stand- 
ing behind her, placing flowers in her hair ; Dora leaning 
against tree r. ; Maria swinging Sadie ; Emma seated 
near Dora, making a band of leaves ; Alice and Guss i e, 
their arms about each other's waists, stand L. c. opening, 

{Chorus. Air, " There'' s Music in the Air.") 

1. 

There's beauty in the grove 
When the opening Spring, unseen, 
With fairy touch invests 
All the earth with robes of green ; 
While the birds' exultant song 
All the rocks and woods prolong : 
Then all hearts are filled with love 
For the beauty of the grove. 

II. 

There's beauty m the grove 
When the Summer's sultry air 
Commands a safe retreat 
To its cool and mossy lair, 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 2/ 

With its wealth of bloom arrayed, 
Fragrant breath and grateful shade: 
All enchanted there we rove 
'Mid the beauty of the grove. 

III. 

There's beauty in the grove 
When the Autumn's magic spell 
Transforms with dainty touch 
All the glowing, leafy dell. 
Yellow, red, and brown combine, 
Golden lustre's quivering shine ; 
Then we joy all else above 
In the beauty of the grove. 

Dora. Oh, I'm so hungry ! 

Jennie. That's compUmentary, I declare, after the musi- 
cal feast we have just spread before you ! 

Dora. Music, like other tonics, only creates an appetite 
for food. 

Jennie. Music is food, so Shakspeare says, — " the food 
of love." * 

Dora. Oh, yes ! Love can feed on air or moonshine, 
and music is quite as unsubstantial. That's why lovers 
always look so pale and thin. I'm not m love, and I'm awful 
hungry ! 

Jennie. Awful, Dora ? Then these old trees should sat- 
isfy that hunger. Don't the poets say they fill one with awe ? 
(Gir/s laitgh.) 

Dora. O Jennie Woodman, spare that tree. Are we 
ever going to get any thing to eat.-* 

Jennie. " In the sweet by-and-by." I declare, Dora, 
you quite destroy the romance of this lovely solitude with 
such earthly longings. Doesn't she, girls? 

Chorus of Girls. Yes, indeed ! 

Jennie. I could roam these woods for days, breathing the 
odor of the pines, feasting my eyes on the verdure, plucking 
the beautiful flowers, and never grow weary or faint. It's 
just lovely, isn't it, girls ? 

Girls (/;/. chorus). Perfectly lovely. 

Dora. Indeed ! And yet you girls are 'all just as hungry 
as I am. 

Chorus of Girls. Oh, no ! 

Dora {comes c). Here comes Gyp with the basket. 



^8, Rebecca's triumph. 

Girls {all flock about Dora). Oh, good, good ! The bas- 
ket — where is it.? 

Dora. " In the sweet by-and-by.'* 

Girls {tiirn away). Oh ! 

Dora. Now, don't feel bad : you've got the piney odors, 
and the variegated verdure, and the beautiful flowers. Just 
lovely, isn't it, girls ? 

Jennie. Dora, how could you? 

Grace. You're just awful ! 

Mellie. Ought to be ashamed of yourself ! 

Girls (/« chorus). O Dora ! 

Dora. There's a chorus of hungry mouths. 

Rebecca {seated). I'm very sorry, girls. Gyp was to 
have started from the house an hour ago with the basket. 

Jennie. What can have become of her.? 

Dora. Lost her way ; perhaps wandering like a black 
babe in the woods. I move that we appoint a committee of 
the whole to go in search of the black diamond. 

Girls. Oh! let's. 

Dora. Unanimous vote. Follow me. * 

We'll scour the woods, and o'er the mountains skip, 
Until we find the long-lost dusky Gyp. 

Come along. 

{Girls 7nai'ch once around in the stage in couples after 
Dora, then off l. opening by trees, and exit r., si7iging one 
statiza of 

" There's beauty in the grove.") 

Rebecca {after the chorus has died away in the distance). 
I wonder how long it will be before they miss me. There's 
no false pride about our girls. As freely and warmly as my 
love goes out to them, as freely and warmly it is returned. 
Never a word or look of scorn for the poor charity-girl. 
Poor ! — I blush at the thought. Am I not honored, re- 
spected, beloved ? Yesterday I might have been envied by 
them all. Mrs. Rokeman, without a question, would have 
taken me to her heart. Why was this, something in my face 1 
I am not beautiful. What can it be ? It has awakened the 
old longing for knowledge of the past. How often in soli- 
tude have I sat and looked at the old tree fast fading to 
decay, which, if it had the power of speech, might tell me 
something of my history ! 



Rebecca's triumph. 29 

Dora {outside). Becky ! 

Girls {in chonis). Becky ! 

Rebecca {rises; goes to tree R.). Beneath its shade a 
we:iry man laid himself down to die, with me, a prattlincr 
child, clasped in his arms. Was he a pitiless wretch, whS 
had snatched me from my cradle ? or was he a tender father 
bearing me from danger or disaster, to safety.? I have 
tortured my brain with doubts and hopes in vain. You keep 
your secrets well, old tree, and perhaps wisely. The future 
IS all my own in which to do and dare. I have courao-e to 
pursue the open way. 'Tis from the gloomy clouds beliind 
I fear the bolt may come to blacken and destroy. {Exit r.) 

{Enter Katie l. behind trees, with a basket on her arm.) 

Katie. Will, now, it's bothered I am intirely ! My missus 
axed me would I run down to the hollow wid — wid — the 
basket, an' her comph mints to the young ladies I'd foind 
a-picknicking ; and shure there's nobody picking ony thin^ at 
all, at all. Phat will I do .? ^ ^ 

{Enter Gyp r. ist entrance with basket) 

Gyp. Bress my soul ! dat ar paf jes ain't no paf at all : it's 

jes de mos' circumbendus road I eber trabelled ; keeps <roinff 

round and round. Fust ting I knowed, I was up to our 

back-door. Had to go all ober it again. But here I is. {Goes 

^up stage; meets Katy c.) 

Katy. Will, I'd loike to know — Is it there ye are, Miss 
Guiney. '' 

Gyp Miss — Miss — what dat are you say .? Don't know 
nuthn bout no such woman. Ise Gyp, I is. 

Katy. Gyp, is it .? Shure that's the naiiie of a puppy. 

Gyp. Dat's my name, and no mistook. 
.x.^M^A ^i"' I never! Shure, if I had sich a name as 
T, f ; M ^° *° ^^^^^' ^° ^ would. What are yees doin' here 
Id loike to know.? * 

Gyp. Well, dat's what I call imperance. Dis am a free 
country. 



Katy. Fray, or not fray, I'd have yees know this counthry 
belongs to my missus. Missus Rokeman an' me want no 
inthruders. 

Gyp. Come wid de basket : somefin' to eat for de vouno- 

folks. ^ *» 

Katy. Did you wipe your fate, I'd loike to know .? 
Gyp. Onto de grass — wipe — sho ! go away wid yees ! 



30 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Whar's de young missus? Dey must be jes rabenous. 
{Sets basket down r.) 

Katy. Shure I've not seen them. {Sets basket down L.) 

Gyp. Yas, wal, dey come down yere for a pickaninny. 

Katy. A what's that .? 

Gyp. a pickaninny, a discursion. An', miss, what you 
say your name ? 

Katy. Will, ye may call me Katy. 

Gyp. Why, dat's de name ob de cat's baby, dat is. 
Wouldn't hab dat name. You ought to go and be courted, 
and hab it changed : yas, indeed ! 

Katy. Oh ! be aisy now : you make me blush wid shame. 
Shure I've been courted by Patsy Dolan. 

Gyp. Patsy Dolan : who be she ? 

Katy. It's my young man, I'd have you know. Shure 
he's a broth of a b'y ; and it's to be married we are, one of 
these days. 

Gyp. Dat so ? Dat's good ! I sympathize wid you : yas, 
indeed ! Hope you'll lib out all ye days. 

Katy. Sure I'm not going to hve out at all, at all : I'm 
going to be married. Says Patsy to me, says he, " Katy, 
your a j'wil ; an' I love yees intirely, from the sole ov your 
head to the crown of * your feet.- Will yees take me for 
bether, or for worse?" Says I to Patsy, says I, "I — I 
couldn't do worse, and I might do bether: so here's my 
hand wid all my heart." An' that's all there is about it. 
Did iver ye have a lover, Gyp ? 

Gyp. Did I ever? What yer take me for ? Heaps an' 
heaps ! Why, dar was Juhus Corrolanus : he — he — fought 
de world ob me. Says he to me, says he, " Gyp, I lub you : 
you're de idoless ob my eye, the apple-core ob my heart, 
de sunflower ob my existence. All de world am sad and 
dreary widout you. Can't lib widout yer, lubliest of your 
sex. Come to dis year achinsr heart ! " Says I to him, says 
I, "Julius Corrolanus, dis world am full of aches and trubbles. 
You're de sebenteeth man dat has told me he had a diseased 
heart. • I'm not a mejum nor a phusycan, an' I don't want no 
trubbles : so you can clar de kitchen jis as soon as your 
aching heart will gib you bref to do it." He jes lef, he did ; 
and dat's all dere is about dat, 

Katy. Will, I niver ! Siventeen ! 

Gyp. Yas : Julius Corrolanus am de sebenteeth, and dar's 



REBECCAS TRIUMPH. 3 I 

anoder waiting for his chance. No use, no use ! When dey 
talk about wedded bliss as a cure for dar aching heart, I 
always give um a blister : yas, indeed! Wonder whar dem 
ar young ladies ar. 

Katy. Shure I've not seen thim. 

Gyp. Dis am a lonesome place, dis am. See dat ar tree 
dar ? Dar was a tragedy done dar at de foot ob dat tree. 

Katy. A trigidy ! Phat's that ? 

Gyp. Dar was a man found" dead dar twenty years ago ; 
an' — an' Miss Becky, what libs at our house, she was dar 
too. 

Katy. Found dead, was she ? Shure I thought she had 



a pale look on he 

Gyp. ■ No, no ! ob course not. Man dead, chile alive : jes 
awful ! Dey say dat dat ar man walks nights. 

Katy {frightened). Yer don't mane it! A sphook, is it? 

Gyp. Ob' course not. How could he speak if he were 
dead "i He jes walks and groans. 

Katy. Shure I'll not stay here at all, at all. It jest 
makes me shake to think of it. There's the basket for the 
young ladies, wid Mrs. Rokeman's complimints. A sphook ! 
Oh, murther! I'd not walk here in the night if it was 
broad noonday ! {Exit l.) 

Gyp. {looking after her)) See her run ! see her run ! She's 
scart, she is, dat ar girl; jes as proud as — as a hen wid one 
chickun, wid her Datsy Polan. Can't put on no airs wid 
dis yer chile. Lobers am all moonshine. Wish I'd made 
out forty-seven stead ob eighteen ; but den I was always 
modest, and blush easy, though I don't show it. Now to find 
dem ar girls. {Exit R.) 

{Music J then slowly ejiter Meg back R., past trees to L. c. 
opening; sits on bejtch. Mnsic pianissimo) 

Meg. The old trysting-place again ! They call me mad, 
and fly at my approach, and pity me. That's right, that's 
right : under that mask, no prying eyes can read the truth. 
I am free to roam and search. There was a time, what is 
now a disguise was a reahty : I was mad. We never 
dreamed of that, Hector, when you and I, in the old days, 
sat here so lovingly together ; when yonder tree concealed 
our little messengers of love ; when we roamed these woods, 
and reared in fancy, love-lit castles in the future, — ah ! those 
were happy days. And then our marriage, our pleasant -voy- 



32 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

age over the sea, and the vine-covered cottage beneath the 
sunny skies ! We were so happy then ! But when my child 
was born the shadow fell, and blotted out all. Eighteen years 
in darkness, and then into a new life, cured of my madness, 
so they said: but my husband was gone, — where, none could 
tell ; and- with him went our child. Oh the weary, weary 
search ! — here and there a ray of light, only to be quenched 
in despair. {Rises.) But the time has come when I must 
make the last desperate effort, face her, and learn the truth. 
She must have had some communication from him. That 
should have been the first step. But pride, as mighty as 
hers, has held me back, until reason totters again. She has 
made no search ; has disowned me : but she must speak 
{comes down left). I'll meet her face to face, crush back my 
pride, and beg, implore, news of my lost ones. {Exit i.. first 
entrance; then music stops.) 

{Enter R. past trees to l. opening, down c, Dora and Jen- 
nie stealthily) 

Dora. We have escaped them without notice. Now for 
the note! {Takes note from her pocket) I was afraid that 
the interesting, love-lorn damsel would arrive before the mail 
had been distributed. Now, my dainty decoy, to your hiding- 
place to work mischief or fun : 'tis all the same. 

Jennie. Will she know where to find it ? 

Dora. Yes: I told her in my last fond epistle. {Places 
note in tree.) What's this ? The tree has done service be- 
fore. See, Jennie ! {holds up a folded paper ', chord.) 

Jennie. 'Tis yellow and faded with age. What can it 
mean ? 

(Mrs. R. appears in opening L. c. from L.) 

Dora {examinijig paper). Who knows how long it has 
lain there .-* It must have been for years. I cannot read the 
lines upon it. Ah ! here's a name, — " Hector Gray." 

Mrs. R. {comes forward). " Hector Gray ? '' 

Dora. Mrs. Rokeman ! 

Mrs R. What have you there? Give it me, quick! 
{Snatches paper \ comes "l) 

Dora I found it in the hollow trunk of this tree. 

Mrs. R. {reads paper with difficulty). "I — dying — 
falls into your hands — shall be no more — my wife — Rome 
— find her — I bnng — her — ring. Remember — Hector 
Gray." And here upon the back my name ! 



Rebecca's triumph. 33 

Dora. Can you make it out, Mrs. Rokeman ? 

Mrs. R. {crushing paper i?i her hand). Scarcely. It's of 
no consequence -, an old record, probably left there by one 
of the woodmen long years ago (^looks at it), in the secret 
place where they hid their tender thoughts ; and now to me 
— me, the slighted and wronged — he sends his dying words ! 
Find her? No: I would not stir one step to save her. She 
left me for the love of an adventurer. She has no claim to 
my compassion. I thought he loved me; would have staked 
my life upon it ; and, when I found they both had deceived 
me, my heart was turned to stone. O Hector Gray ! 'twas 
a coward's trick by which you won your bride, and robbed 
me of a sister's love ; so base, that, when out of the grave 
you call to me for help, my hardened heart repels you with 
hate and loathing ! {Exit L. i E.) 

Jennie. Why, she's gone, Dora, without a word ! How 
impolite ! "" 

Dora. That was no woodman's record. 

Jennie. There's something in that paper that affected 
her. How her hands shook ! Oh, here's the basket ! {Goes 
to basket R.) 

Dora {goes to basket l.). And here's another ! 

Two baskets with a single thought, 
Two meals to eat as one. 

Here's Mrs. Rokeman's card on it. Ain't this jolly 1 Girls, 
girls ! Scream, Jennie ! 

Jennie a7td Dora. Girls, girls ! 

(Girls flock in from A. through trees.) 

Dora. Here is the basket from Mrs. Delaine ; and, what 
do you think, another bouncer from Mrs. Rokeman ! 

Grace. From Mrs. Rokeman 1 

Dora. Yes: our high-toned and high-hilled neighbor has 
at last felt that touch of nature which makes the whole 
world kin, thanks to our Becky 

{Enter Becky from r.^ 

Rebecca. What has our Becky to answer for now ? 

Dora. A load of goodies from your would-be adopted 
mother, Mrs. Rokeman. {Takes off cover) O My! cold 
chicken, sandwiches, Charlotte Russe, and, and — 

Rebecca. But where's Gyp .? 

{Enter Gyp. r. i-e.) 



34 

Gyp. Here I is, Miss Becky ! Had a heap ob trubble to 
fine you. Dis yere's our basket, dat oder Miss Quality 
brung from de big house. Speck we'd better send it'^back : 
dat's what I tink. 

Dora. Send it back ?' I think not. Oh, here's a lovely 
Washington pie ! 

Gyp. Dat's noffin. Give dose away to de tramps down 
to our house. 

Dora. O girls, hold me ! I shall fly ! Here's pickles ! 
{holds up a bottle.) 

Girls {m chorus). Pickles ! — oh ! 

Gyp. Pickles! dat's noffin. Bring yers a whole barrel: 
only couldn't roll it up de hill. 

Rebecca. Come, Gyp : lay the cloth. We shall do full 
justice to your basket as well as Mrs. Rokeman's. 

Gyp. Ah right. 

Dora. Hurry, girls ! Thanks to Mrs. Rokeman, instead 
of a lunch we have a banquet. 
(Gyp spreads table-cloth in c. of stage, near c. tree. Music. 

Girls bring from each basket, and place upon cloth, food. 

Singing J air, " Sabre de mon Pere,^') 

We spread our banquet in the forest, 

Beneath yon proudly arching tree, 
Whose leafy branches, bending o'er us, 

Bestows its shady canopy. 
We'll pass the time in happy converse ; 

No care shall mar our happy day : 
With song and jest and merry laughter 

The hours too quickly pass away. 
Haste to the banquet, the banquet, the banquet. 

Haste to the banquet, the banquet we have spread ; 
Haste to the banquet, the banquet, the banquet. 

Haste to the banquet, the banquet we have spread ! 

{At the conclusion of song, allseat themselves about2i^ libitum 

and eat. Gyp passes plate to Rebecca •, then stands l. c. 

opening; or assisting as need be.) 

Dora (r.). Now, isn't this jolly ? And yet Jennie is satis- 
fied with a musical feast. Music the food of love! — non- 
sense ! 

Jennie (l.). Oh ' you may laugh ; but I contend there is 
enough in music to furnish a feast, and I can prove it. 

Dora. I should hke to see the proof. — Have some cold 
chicken, Becky? 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 35 

Rebecca. No, I thank you. 

Dora. In the first place, where will you find a table ? 

Jennie. I should go to the piano for that, and take the 
key-board. 

Dora. And the piano-cover for a table-cloth. Now set 
your table. 

Jennie. Well, for plates, I should go to the musical 
scale and take flats. 

Dora. Mercy ! Why don't you take whole notes ? they 
are round, and not apt to crack. What for knives ? 

Jennie. Sharps, of course ; and forks, the tuning-fork, 
of course ; and for spoons — 

Dora. As it is a lovers' feast, they won't want any besides 
themselves. But you need a caster. 

Jennie. There are four on the piano. 

Dora. Gracious ! — what a head ! What next ? 

Jennie. That will do for the table. Now we want bread : 
the staff will do for that. 

Dora. I see ; bread being the staff of life. 

Grace. Why not go to the drum? You could always 
get fresh rolls from that. (^// laugh.) 

Dora. Grace, have a sandwich ? you must be faint. — 
Come, Jennie : we want four courses, — soup, fish, meats, and 
dessert. Where will you go for your soups ? 

Jennie. They're in every opera. 

Sadie. Make it yourself. You can always find a bone,— 
a trombone. {All laugh.) 

Dora. Lucky thought! 'Tis an ill wind that blows 
nobody any good. Next, fish. 

Jennie. You can always find a perch on the piano-stool. 

Sadie. Or in a net, — the clarinet. 

Gyp. Yas, indeed; or in a horn, — the fish-horn. {All 
laugh.) 

Dora. That's enough. Pass on to the next. Come, 
meats. 

Jennie. " Meet me by moonlight alone : " how's that ? 

All. Horrid ! 

Gyp. Git it ob de drum. Dar's allays good mutton under 
de sheep-skin : dat's so {laughs). 

Jennie. Then, for birds — 

Dora. There's always a brace on the musical scale. 

Gyp. What kind ob birds be dose, Miss Dora? 



36 ~ Heb^cca's triumph. 

Dora. The do-do's, of course {laugh). Then, for vege- 
tables, we always have beats. Now for dessert. 

Jennie. Apples, pears, oranges — 

Dora. Nonsense! There's nothing musical about those. 

Jennie. Yes, indeed ! — their peel. 

Dora. Oh ! goodness ! horrible ! Quite enough ! The 
feast of love indeed ! {All laugh:) 

{Enter frojn R., past trees to L. c. openings Clarissa.) 

Clarissa. SubHme spectacle of rural simplicity ! 

Dora. How d'ye do, Miss Codman ! " Won't you come 
and take tea in the arbor ? " 

Rebecca (r/j-^j-). Glad to see you. {All rise. Gyv clears 
stage and packs baskets during the scene.) Will you taste 
our homely fare ? 

Clarissa. Thank you. None for me {sighs). I have 
no appetite. I am wasting away beneath the devastating 
passion which has taken possession of my tender heart. 
Love, girls, — love is a jealous master; it permits no rival 
to approach its throne. It hath no kindred with eating and 
drinking, and that sort of thing. 

Dora. Thank Goodness, I'm not in love. 

Clarissa. Ah, child! your time will come, when the 
flutter of a first love will agitate your youthful breast ; when 
love-lit visions will hover about your pillow as they have come 
to me. {Comes down R.) O Theophilus ! my Theophilus I 
■your invisible presence is my joy by day, my guardian angel 
by night. Where'er I walk — {Walks across stage.) 

Gyp. Please step off de tablecloth. Miss Codman ! Dat 
ain't a carpet. 

Clarissa. I beg pardon. I was so rapt — 

Gyp. Wh}^, who — who — rapped yer? I nebber struck 
yer. 

Clarissa {goes up towards tree r.). {Aside.) I must seek 
the hollow tree, within whose confines rest what I hold so 
dear. 

Dora {to Jennie, l.). She's after the note! {Aloud) 
Going, Miss Codman? 

Clarissa {turns). Oh, no ! I propose to meander in this 
lovely retreat, so eloquent of love and Arcadian quiet. 

Dora. O Becky! — here a moment. (Rebecca comes 
down L.). I forgot to tell you, when I placed the note for 
Miss Codman in that tree, I found an old yellow paper, that 
must have been there for years. 



REBECCA*S TRIUMPH. 37 

Rebecca. You found it ? Oh, give it to me quick ! 

Dora. I haven't it. Just as I had made out the name 
signed to it, — Hector Gray, — Mrs. Rokeman snatched it 
from my hand. 

Rebecca, Mrs. Rokeman? 

Dora. Yes. She read it, and seemed much moved by 
its contents. — Wliy, Becky, what's the matter.? How pale 
you look ! 

Rebecca. Dora, I was found at the foot of that tree ! 

Dora. You ! Then perhaps that paper concerned you. 

Rebecca. I'm sure it did. O Dora! I have both longed 
for and dreaded the disclosure that paper must bring. I 
have foolishly suffered, because I know nothing of my former 
life ; but, now the knowledge is so near, I tremble with fear, 
lest the disclosure which must come may be fraught with 
shame ! {Covers her face with her hands^ 

Dora. Nonsense! Are ^you not one of us ? You have 
done no wrong. What shame can come to you ? Your own 
true heart has made you loving and beloved, and you will 
always be our own dear Becky. {Puts her arm about her, 
leads her up c. ; girls gather around them. Clarissa comes 
down with note ; holds it up,) 

Clarissa. My tiny messenger of love ! {Opens and 
reads) " Dearest, sweetest, and loveliest ! " {Kisses note) 
Truthful Theophilus ! {Reads) " I pine for thee as I wan- 
der around these mournful pines, a sapless ! " Oh, no I 
^'a hapless wretch! I must see you. My eyes, even now, 
as you read, are upon you. When all is still, when you are 
alone, I will appear. Faint not, dearest ; nerve yourself for 
the shock; and believe me ever your own true, devoted 
Theophilus." Oh, I shall see him in all his native 
majesty! Oh happiness of joy unspeakable! {Turns 
quickly) Come, girls: isn't it time you were going home.? 
It's getting late, and these woods are awful lonesome after 
dark. 

Rebecca. We were just thinking of moving. Will you 
accompany us ? 

Clarissa. Not just yet: this quiet solitude is very 
inviting to my reflective moods. I will tarry a while, and 
refresh myself. 

Gyp {with baskets on her arm, crosses to R., Jirst e.). De 
refreshments jes moving : can't tarry no longer. Ef you get 



3? Rebecca's triumph. 

hungry, come down to the house and recooper up yerself. 
{Exit first, E. R.) 

Rebecca. Come, girls. (Girls pass behind trees in 
couples.) Good-by, Miss Codman ! {Puts arm about DoRA.) 
We have had a pleasant day, — perhaps the last happy day I 
shall spend in this spot. {Exit slowly with Dora after the 
other girls pass tree to R.) 

Clarissa. They are gone ! How my heart flutters ! I 
shall meet him, — meet him by moonlight alone! And 
there's no moon : what a shame ! I wonder if my back-hair 
is all right. {Arranges curls.) Lucky I curled my hair 
this morning, though I did scorch it with the hot iron ! 
He's coming ! Theophilus, my loved one, is coming ! Won- 
der if my dress hangs right behind. I must look pale ; get 
the color out of my face. {Takes handkerchief out of her 
pocket, and rubs cheeks violently.) Theophilus ! — my Theo- 
philus ! 

Song. — Air, ^^ Baby Mine.^^ 

I am waiting here for thee, 

Lover mine, lover mine, — 
Here beside the old oak-tree, 

Lover mine. 
Oh, with what a glad surprise 
I shall look into thine eyes, 
Where all my kingdom lies, 

Lover mine, lover mine ; 
Where all my kingdom lies, 

Lover mine ! 

How shall I receive him ? A pensive attitude will be most 
becoming. {Places left ha7td under right elbow, finger of 
right hand on lip, eyes rolled up.) Ha ! I hear his step ! 
Be still, little fluttering heart ! 
(Dora appears fro7n r. wrapped in a long cloak with a 

slouched hat concealing her face ; she steps between trees.) 

Dora {imitatijig deep voice). " Where art thou now, my 
beloved ? " 

Clarissa {with a slight scream turns). Ah, 'tis he ! 'tis 
he ! — so like the face of my dreams ! The commanding fig- 
ure ! Strange man, individual in disguise, who art thou? 
Dost thou come to affront a simple country maiden ? or art 
thou, say, art thou — 

Dora. "Clarissa I" 



Rebecca's triumph. oq 

TI^opMus Mo^lagJ.eT"'''' ' "" ''^^''''-^ "^^''^^ ^'"^ '"") 
{Girls Jlock in back r.) 
CLARISSA. Oh, deceived, deceived ! — lost ! (Falls ii-hn^ 
rustic bejich l.) \^acis upon 

(Dora and girls laughing as curtain descends.) 

END SECOND ACT. 



40 REBECCAS TRIUMPH. 



ACT III. 

Scene. — Parlor in Mrs. Rokeman's house. Open doors 
C, backed by garden ; windows R. and\.. of doors C, with 
curtains ; stnall table at window R., vase of flowers on it; 
chair near ; small table at window l., with dish of fruit 
on it arid plates ; uprigJit piano against side L., at which 
Sadie is seated ; door l., betwee?t piano and flat; door 
opposite R.; arm-chair l. c, in which Mrs. Rokeman is 
seated; ottoman R. c, oji which Jennie aftci Mellie are 
seated, with an open book of engravings ; Emma stands 
behind, looking over. Arjn-chair R., in which Grace is 
seated; Maria on hassock, at her left; Alice stands at 
her right, leaning against chair ; Gussie stands L., be- 
tween piano and Mrs. R. Before the curtain rises, Sadie, 
or any other member of the company who may be selected 
as pianist, commences a solo, concluding it after the cur-- 
tain has beeti raised. Then introduce such vocal and in- 
stf umental specialties as may be desired, concluding with 

{^Chorus. Air^ '■'-Believe 7ne if all those endearing young 
charmsJ'') 

Remember, while life's fond, enchanting young days 

Are so bright with the blossoms of joy, 
There are sad hearts to lighten, and weak souls to raise, 

And wrongs to forgive and destroy. 
For the heart that is truly blest never dismays 
. At the task which stern dnt\- may give : 
With its balm for all ills in I'fe's devious ways. 

Remember to forget and forgive. 

Dora. There, Mrs. Rokeman, I believe we have ex- 
hausted our repertoire ; and the girls are just dying to have 
a ramble in your beautiful garden. Aren't you, girls ? 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 4I 

Girls {in chorus). Oh, yes ! 

Mrs. R. Pardon me ! You have entertained me so 
charmingly, I quite forgot my duties as hostess. But — your 
friend ? She does not come. 

Dora. Oh ! Becky will come, never fear. She is very 
particular to leave all neat and tidy at home. We might 
meet her, if you would let us go into the garden. 

Jennie {twitching Dora's dress). Why, Do! How im- 
polite ! 

Dora. Can't help it. I must have a run in that garden. 

JVlRS. R. {rising: all rise). You are free to roam where'er 
you please. My house, my grounds, all are at your pleasure. 
My garden has been so long silently beautiful, I am anxious 
to hear it ring with the music of your merry voices. 

Girls {Iji chorus). Oh, thank you ! Thank you ! 

Dora. Come on, girls ! They laugh the heartiest who run 
the fastest. Catch me if you can ! {Darts out c. door, and 
off I.., followed by the Girls, lajighing.) 

Mrs. R. Remember. Yes, that word pierced my heart 
with a pain so sharp and sudden, that I almost cried out. 
Have I done right ? I have rent away the gloomy veil that 
for twenty years has enveloped this house, and let in the 
sunlight of youthful faces and the music of glad voices. 
With my own hands I have brought back the sweet happy 
days of girlhood. For what? To mock me with one gleam 
of the paradise of peace, only to make still darker the gloomy 
future. [Exit door l. 

{Enter fj-om R., through door c, Rebecca a7id Mrs. 
Delaine.) 

Rebecca. Come along. Mother Chirrup. You can-t run 
away from me ! 

Mrs. D. Bless my soul ! I never expected to enter these 
doors again. Nobody wants an old woman like me. I tell 
you, Becky, I'm going straight home. There's the bread to 
make and the cow to milk — 

Rebecca. No. Mother Chirrup. Here you are. and here 
you stay. It's my company, and I've liberty to invite whom 
1 please. Take off your bonnet. Mother Chirrup. 

Mrs. D. I shall do no such thing. 

Rebecca. Very well. Then I shall do it for you. {Re- 
moves bonnet.) I've invited Clarissa Codman : and, when 
she comes, you two can have a grand time talking over your 
old love-affairs. 



42 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Mrs. D. Me ? I never had such a thing in my h'fe. 

Rebecca. Remember, you are to find out the contents 
ot that mysterious paper found in the woods yesterday. 

Mrs. D. Oh! 1 thought you didn't bring me here* just 
for company. 

Rebecca. Why, you wicked old lady ! Tve a great mind 
to shake you. Sit down, and be sociable. {Pushes her into 
chair r.) 

Mrs. D. Sociable here ? Why, Becky, it just makes me 
shiver to be in this house. 

Rebecca {placing shawl and bonnet on chair near R. win- 
dow). Then we will have a fire built for your special accom- 
modation. 

[Enter Mrs. R. door L.) 

Mrs. R. I'm glad to see you. {Gives hand to Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. Thank you, Mrs. Rokeman. 

Mrs. R. And my old friend Mary. Welcome! (Gives 
hand to Mrs. D.) 

Mrs. D. I didn't mean to come, Mrs. Helen; but she 
would make me. She's a tyrant, that she is. She makes 
me do just as she pleases. 

Rebecca. Don't scold. Mother Chirrup ; for, when you 
scold, your head shakes ; and, when your head shakes, your 
cap always gets awry. 

Mrs. D. {puts hand to cap). Mercy on me ! 

Rebecca. I am a little late, Mrs. Rokeman. Would you 
believe it? I forgot the particularly-invited guest, — the 
cake. And. after setting out, I was obliged to return and 
give Gyp directions about bringing it. Are the girls here .? 
(Girls' laugh outside.) Oh, yes ! I hear them. May I join 
them } 

Mrs. R. Certainly. 

Rebecca. Then I will leave Mother Chirrup with you. 
Don't let her scold, Mrs. Rokeman ; for she has taken great 
pains with her cap, and, should it come to pieces, great would 
be the fall thereof. \^Exit C. and off l.. 

Mrs. R. {sits chair l. c.) Mary. 

Mrs. Yi. {jumps up). Yes, marm. {Aside) Dear me! I 
thought I was in service again. {Sits and straightens up 
very'prirn.) Well, Mrs. Rokeman. 

Mrs. R. 'Tis many years since you left this house. 
Mary. 



Rebecca's triumph. 43 

Mrs. D. Twenty years this June. The day after your 
sister was married. ^ ^ 

' Mrs. R. We will not speak of my sister. 

Mrs. D. {rises). Indeed, then I wish you a very frood- 
afternoon {Moves towards door c. Mrs. R. rises, aud 
stops her.) ' 

Mrs. R. Stop Mary, we must not part again in anger. 
You may speak of whom you please. Be seated. 

Mrs. D. {sits). Well, if I may speak, I've got notliincr 
more to say. ® 

^ Mrs. R. Your presence here, Mary, recalls many pleas- 
ing recollections of the time when my father was alive 
This was a merry place then. 

Mrs. D. Indeed it was. The squire, your father, was 
a gentle man, free-handed and warm-hearted; your sister 
C ara as merry and bright as a fairy. {Sighs.) Dear, dear ! 
what could have become of her.? 

Mrs. R. Your adopted daughter Rebecca interests me 
very much. Where did you find her .? ■ 

Mrs. Ti. {aside) Becky — she wants her; but she can't 
have her. {Aloud.) Oh ! she's a poorhouse child. 

Mrs. R. And her father and mother? 

Mrs. D. Dead poor thing, dead. Did you never hear 
any thing of Clara.? ' 

Mrs. R. Never. How old is Rebecca? 

mnrrt!; ^;^'^vTcf^'^ ^^f ""! T'^" "'"^^^ Clara when she 
married. {Aside.) She can't choke me off. 

Mrs. R. Eighteen ? 

Mrs D Exactly. {Aside.) Uov^ well she remembers! 
{Aloud.) Why don't you make some inquiries for Clara.? 

Mrs. R. I know no way, even had I the desire. 

Mrs. P {aside) Still hard and revengeful. {Aloud.) 
No way? j Then I'd find one. She must have gone some- 
where, and the world is not so big but what a warm heart 
and a long purse might be able to find trace of her. 

Mrs. R. Possibly. Shall we join the youn^^ ladies ? 

Mrs. P By and by. They do not need us, and possi- 
bly we might interfere with their pleasure as you did yester- 

Mrs. R. I ! 

Mrs. D. Yes : one of them found an old paper hid in the 
Hollow oak. You came upon them suddenly, and snatched 



44 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

it away before they had gratified a natural curiosity to learn 
its contents. 

Mrs. R. It would not have interested them. 

Mrs. D. But it did you. 

Mrs. R. Me! 

Mrs. D. Yes ; for, while you read it, your face paled and 
your hands shook. 

Mrs. R. {with an effort). It was an almost unintelhgible 
Fxrawl from the hand of a dying man, Hector Gray. 

Mrs. D. Hector Gray .'* Mercy ! Clara's husband. 
What did it say .? 

Mrs. R. {takes paper from her pocket). You may read it. 
{Ha 71 (is p aper.) , 

Mrs. D. Let me get my glasses. {Puts on glass es>j It's 
very old .and yellow with age. {Reads slowly.) "Dying — 
wife — Rome." I can make nothing of it. Yes, yes, I can : 
Clara was in Rome, and he — 

Mrs. R. Was on his way to me, to me. Tired of her, 
he turned to me, no doubt to confess his error, and implore 
pardon. 

Mrs. D. Your own love deceived you. 'Twas Clara he 
loved, and her alone. 

Mrs. R. His last words were for me. 

Mrs. D. That you might seek your sister. There could 
be no other motive,*save one. 

Mrs. R. And that? 

Mrs. D. To place — {Aside.) I see it all : I must lose my 
Becky, but not until justice is done to Clara. {Aloud.) You 
will seek her in Rome.'* You will go to her.'' 

Mrs. R. No. 

Mrs. D. Then I will. {Rises.) I'm an old woman, 
hardly fitted for a task that requires strength and endurance; 
but I would cross seas, mountains, to clasp in my arms once 
more the child who nestled there long, long ago. Helen 
Rokeman, you are proud of your name, and yet you would 
let the darling of your house wander among strangers. 
Thank Heaven, I have no such pride to check the promptings 
of my heart I will find her if she be living. 

Mrs. R. Shall we join the young ladies ? 

Mrs. D. {returns paper). When you please. I want 
Becky. 

Mrs. R. {goes to door c). Then follow me. {Turns,) 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 45 

Mary, if I seem cold and cruel, remember that all the 
brightness was blotted from my life by the man who made 
my sister happy and me miserable. Come. {Exit l. 

Mrs. D. Ah ! the Delmar pride is stubborn. But if you 
knew all — if you knew as I do now who will inherit this 
grand estate, your pride would be humbled, my lady. {Exii 
C. to L. Meg creeps onfroj/i door R., and watches them off.) 

Meg. Too late. By the old familiar way I have crept 
into her house, only to miss the opportunity of meeting her 
alone. (Girls laugh outside^ Merry voices and gay com- 
pany {looks off), bright and happy faces about her. She 
greets them with smiles. What masquerade is here ! They 
told me she was cold and haughty, held herself aloof from 
her neighbors. Have I been mistaken? Is there warm life 
within that marble statue, feeling within that obdurate heart? 
If it be so, my wrongs will find a way to reach it, my 
despair the power to touch it. \_Exit door l. 

{Enter, doorR., Katy, with a letter in her hand) 

Katy {ttirning letter over and over). An' sure I got a 
love-lether frum Patsy ; an' phat will I do wid it I dunno. 
I can't rade, and the misthress is away wid the company 
girls. How will I find out phat's inside it? It's bothered 
I am intirely. 

{Enter from l., through c. door, Dora.) 

Dora. Ah, Katy! Is it ther yees are? Where's Mrs. 
Delaine's shawl ? I see it. {Goes towards window R.) 

Katy. If yees plase, Miss Dora, might I be afther trou- 
bling yees ? 

Dora {comes down). Certainly, Katy. What's the 
trouble ? 

Katy. If yees plase, I have a lether. 

Dora. From the ould counthry ? 

Katy. No, indade : it's from — it's from — sure you'll be 
afther laughin' if I tole yees. 

Dora. Then you needn't tell me, Katy : I can guess. 
It's a love-letter. 

Katy. An' who towld yees that ? 

Dora. Yourself, Katy, by the blushes on your cheeks 
and the sparkle in your eyes. You want me to read it for 
you ? 

Katy. If yees plase. Miss Dora. {Hands letter) 

Dora {opening letter). I shall learn all your secrets, 
Katy. Perhaps the young man would not like that. 



46 . Rebecca's triumph. 

Katy. Thin yees moight shkip the sacrets. 

Dora {lan(^hs). All right. Katy. {Reads.) " Lovely Katy." 

Katy. That's me. Sure that's no sacret. 

Dora {reads). " I take me pin in hand wid a bating heart, 
to till yees uv the sthrong wakeniss 1 have for yees." 

Katy. Yees moight shkip that. 

Dora {reads). " i have nather ate, dhrunk, nor slipt, for 
a wake.'' 

Katy. Will, that jist accomits for the wakeniss. 

Dora {reads). " Barrin' my thray males a day, an' me pipe 
an' tobacyer." 

Katy. An' he wid the hearty appetite ! 

Dora (reads). An' all me slapeliss nights are fill wid 
drames of yees, Katy Mavourneen." 

Katy. Sure he's the darlin'. 

Dora {read:,). •' 1 have yees phortygraff nailed to the hid 
uv me bid ; and ivery night, afther 1 ve blown out the candle 
wid me fingers, 1 tak a good look at it, an', if ye'U belave me, 
there's not a dry thread in me eyes-." 

Katy." Sure he was alwus tinder-hearted. 

Dora {reads). " If yees don't belave me, tak a good look 
at yees own face before yees open the leiher, and see if I 
have not cause to wape." 

Katy. Sure I ought to have known that before the lether 
came. 

Dora {reads). " If yees foind these tinder loins blotted 
wid tears, it's all owing to the bad quality uv the ink, which 
has compilled me to pin this wid a pincil." 

Katy. That's no mather. 

Dora (reads). •' if yees don't recave this lether, or can't 
rade it, niver moind : ye'll know that all that's in it is the 
truth, an' nades nather radin' or writin' to till the same. So 
name the day, Katy darlin', whin me single blissidniss is to 
exphire. an' t^e mathrimoonial noose shlipped over the hid 
of yees lovin' and consolin' 

Patsy Dolan. 

"P.s. — These last lines are the poethry av love. 

*' SECOND p.s. — To be rid fhirst. 1 inclose a ring for yees 
finger, which same yees will find in me nixt lether." That's 
all, Katy. (Hands b.ick letter.) 

Katy. It's jist illigent. I'm obleeged to yees. 

Dora {takes shawl from chair). Quite welcome, Katy. 



Rebecca's triumph. 47 

Wlien you get ready to name the day. I'll answer it for you. 
But be quick, Katy '; for the poor fellow will not live long on 
"only his thray males a day, an' his pipe an' tobacyer." 
{Runs offo.. to L.) 

Katy {looks at letter). Sure it's a darlin' lether, an' Patsy 
Dolan's a broth uv a bye. 

{Enter froin r., through c. door, Gyp, with basket of cake 
covered iviiJi a napkin.) 

Gyp. Ah, dar you is, Katy ! Whar's de misses ? Whar's 
Miss Becky? Whar's eberybod) ? 

Katy. In the garden, sure. Yees may coom in, if yees 
wipe yers fate. 

Gyp. Yas, indeed! How yerwas? ,And how's Patsy 
Dolan ? 

Katy. He's will. I've jist recaved a lether from him. 

Gyp. Dat so ? Dat's good ! Lub-letters am bery con- 
solin' to de flutterin' heart. Here's de cake for Miss Becky. 
{Sets it on top of piano) Got a letter, hab you? S'pose 
you red it frough and frough. 

Katy. Sure I can't rade at all, at all. 

Gyp. Dat so ? Well, well ! De ignoramance ob de 
foreign poperlation am distressin'. 

Katy:. Can you rade ? 

Gyp. Read ? What you take me for ? How else could 
I debour de heaps and heaps ob lub-letters dat I constantly 
receibe from my adorers ? - 

Katy {aside). Faith, I'd lolke to hear Patsy's lether again. 
{Aloud) Thin plase rade this for me. {Hands letter) 

Gyp {conpised). Wh-wh-what you take me fur? {Aside) 
Gollv ! she cotch me den. {Aloud) No, chile : dose tender 
confections am fur you alone, and dey shouldn't be composed 
to de world. 

Katy. An' sure yees can't rade. 

Gyp. What's that ? Can^t read ? ( Takes letter, and turns 
it round several times) Berry long letter. Want to hear 
it all? 

Katy. I very word. 

Qyv {aside). Mussn't gibin. Spec dase all alike. {Aloud) 
Ob course, ob course. {Pretends to read) " Lubliest ob your 
sexes." 

Katy. Sure that's not there. 

Gyp {shows letter). See fur yerself, see fur yerself. 



48 Rebecca's triumph. 

Katy. Go on wid the lether. 

Gyp. " Sublimest ob de fair sexes, dis am a whale ob 
tears. Dar ain't no sunshine of moonshine widout you." 

Katy. That's not thrue at all, at all. 

Gyp {shows letter). Read it yerself, read yerself. 

Katy. Go on wid the lether. 

Gyp. " De moon on de lake am beamin', de lubly sun- 
flower perfumeries in de garden, de tuneful frogs meliferously 
warble in de riber, an' de breezes blow fro' de treeses ; but 
my lub, my lub, whar, oh, whar am she .'* " 

Katy. I don't belave — 

Gyp {as before). See fur yerself ; see fur yerself ! 

Katy. Oh, quit yees talkin' an' talkin'. Go on wid the 
lether. 

Gyp. 

" My lub she isn't hansum, 
My lub she isn't fair ; 
But to cook de beef and 'taters 
Can't beat her anywhar." 

Dat's potry, Katy, dat is ; alwus find lots ob dat in lub-letters: 
it gibs dem a fiabor. 

Katy. I don't belave it's there. 

Gyp {as before). See fur yerself; see fur yerself! 

Katy. Go on wid the lether. 

Gyp. Luf me see wha was I. " Come rest on dis yere 
head your aching breast." Deyall got dat, Katy, an' — an' 
{aside), well, I'se jest puzzled fur more : guess we'll hab some 
more potry {aloud) an' — an', — 

" We'll dance all night 'till broad daylight, 
An' go home wid de girls in de morning. " 

Katy. It's no such thing ! Yer desavin' me, so yees are 
Me Patsy wouldn't go home wid the girls at all, at all. 

Gyp. See fur yerself ; see fur yerself ! 

Katy {snatching letter). So I will. It's false and de- 
sateful yees are, -for Miss Dora rid the lether, an' — an' — it 
was jist illegant so it was ; an' it's yersilf, — bad luck to the 
loikes ov yees, whin yees can't rade ! an' it's the blissid troth 
I'm tillin', — invintin' a bit uv blarney to make trouble be- 
twane a poor girl an' her Patsy. Away wid yees ! 

lExit door R. 

Gyp. Well, I guess she fooled me dat time. No use. 



Rebecca's triumph. 40 

par's ahvus trubble interferin' in lub affairs, jest like domes- 
tic affairs : when man and wife am fighting, ef you try to be 
a messenger ob peace, ef you don't look out, you'll eit de 
broomstick onto yer own head. 

{Enter door c. Mrs. R. and Rebecca.) 

Rebecca. Dear Mrs. Rokeman, it is very kind of you 
to give us this charming afternoon. 

Mrs. R. My dear girl, I am indebted to you for a very 
great pleasure. I have been very cold and unsocial in shut- 
ting myself away from the lovely and lively society which 
you can summon about you with a smile, and whom you 
seem born to command. 

Rebecca. Tm glad you Hke them. Oh, here's Gyp ! — 
Did you bring- the cake ? 

Gyp. Yas, Miss Becky, dar it am on de organ. 

Rebecca. Thank you; you may go to Mother Chirruo 
tor further orders. ^ 

Gyp. Yas, Miss Becky. lExit door c. of l. 

Rebecca {takes basket). Now, Mrs. Rokeman, you "shall 
be the first to judge our new experiment. Luckily we are 
alone : the girls would be so mortified if it should happen to 
be a failure. 

yi^s. ^. {sits arm-chairi.. c). Never fear; I shall be a 
lenient judge. 

Rebecca. Oh, you must tell the truth! {Takes ^late 
from window l., and places it in Mrs. R.'s /^^.) It looks 
nice, doesn't it .? 

Mrs. R. Very tempting. Shall I try it ? 

Rebecca {presenting basket). If you please. (Mrs. R. 
raises a slice) Not that please. Try this {points), there's 
an almond sticking out. Don't you like almonds ? 

Mrs. R Very much. {Takes slice of cake, aitd lays it on 
her plate.) -^ 

Rebecca {carries basket back to piano). Our fate is in 
your hands. 

Mrs. R. {takes cake in her hands, holdifig it above ^late). 
WhTt^s tWs*? ^ '''''^' '^- ^'''^ f""^^' Ji^giing into plate) 

^■f^^^QK {turns qtdckh). My ring ! Found at last ! Who 
would ever have dreamed of finding it there ! It must have 
slipped off while I was mixing the cake. 

Mrs. R. {who has taken up the ring^ and is exarnining if. 



50 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

with much efnotion). Your ring? Yours ? How came you 
by this ring ? Speak, girl ! 

Rebecca {kneels beside Mrs. R. without turning back to 
audience). It was hanging about my neck when I was found. 

Mrs. R. Found where .? 

Rebecca. In the woods, near the great elm, eighteen 
years' ago. 

Mrs. R. Eighteen years ago ? 

Rebecca. Yes, in the arms of a dead man. No one 
knew his story ; no clew to his former history could be 
found. Why, Mrs. Rokeman, how pale you are ! Are you 
ill .? 

Mrs. R. {with an effort). 'Tis nothing. This ring — it 
has a motto. 

Rebecca. "Remember." Yes, a mocking motto. It bids 
me do what I have no power to perform, — to remember 
something which I have never known ; something in the 
past for which I grope in vain amid the darkness. O Mrs. 
Rokeman ! you are rich and powerful ; help me to find 
some trace of her who gave me birth, my mother, and I 
will bless you. {Bows her head in her hands^ 

Mrs. R. {places hand on her head). Poor child, poof 
child ! You are right. I am rich and powerful, and I will 
help you ; and, should I succeed, your blessing would be the 
greastest reward I could desire. Will you trust your ring to 
me, Rebecca '^. 

Rkekcca {risi7tg). Willingly. {Takes plate to table.) 

Mrs. R. {rising). And, if I succeed, you will pardon me.-* 

Rebecca. Pardon ? You never wronged me, and now 
you will be my champion. {Takes her hand.) Heaven bless 
you ! Come failure or success, I shall love you with my 
whole heart. {Kisses hand.) 

Mrs. R. {aside). Heaven make me worthy of that love. 
{Aloud.) Go to your friends, my child, and fear not: your 
interests I shall {looks at ring) '• remember." 

Rebecca. A thousand, thousand thanks ! How glad the 
girls will be to know I have found my ring! {Riins off door 
C. to L.) 

Mrs. R. There's no escape. I must set myself to the 
ti.sk too long neglected. I thought myself wronged because 
one I loved turned from me to one who had all his heart 
after my promise {looks at ring), " Remember, his choice 



REBECCAS TRIUMPH. 5 I 

shall be sacred; it shall never break our love." And I 
turned traitor, shut my heart against her, and cursed them 
both in my bitterness and despair. And now this child, hev 
image, pleads to me for help. Twenty years of sinful hate 
swept away by the pleadings of a girl. I must repair the 
wrong. All else failing, I must, I will, win her love. (Comes 
down R., looking at ring.) 

{Enter Meg, door l.) 

Meg. Alone at last. 

Mrs. R. {turns). You here .? 

Meg. Yes, I, — Meg, crazy Meg. Ha, ha! not a welcome 
visitor to your grand house. The lady of the hill. Ha, ha ! 
rich and mighty, but so proud and haughty she dwells alone, 
and hears not the cry of want or pity; for. from her heart 
there wells a bitter cry to drown all else, — " Remorse, re- 
morse." 

Mrs. R. Woman, begone! I know you not. 

Meg. You do {solennily) : '' remember." 

Mrs. R. " Remember!" Who are you ? 

Meg {throws off gray wig). Tell me, you. 

Mrs. R. My sister Clara ! Oh, welcome, welcome ! 
{Goes towards her with open arms) 

Meg {waves her back). Back, we are strangers. 

Mrs. R. Strangers .? O Clara ! sister ! 

Meg. Peace ! "We are no longer sisters. " Remember, 
his choice shall be sacred : it shall never break our love." 
I have kept the compact, have you? Mid misery and want, 
when the clouds were thick about me, and when he I loved 
forsook me, I waited, longed, for a loving word from over 
the sea. It never came. 

Mrs. R. Clara, you have been wronged, cruelly wronged. 
I was jMtiless, relentless : but now all is changed. This very 
day, within an hour, I have heard that which, but for your 
coming, would have set me on the road for Rome to-morrow. 
{Kneels.) O Clara, sister, on my knees I implore your par- 
don and forgiveness! Be reconciled; I am ready to share 
all with you. 

Meg. Too late. I have lost my husband and my child; 
your love I lost yeirs ago; there is nothing worth living 
for now. Here amid the scenes of my happy youth I should 
go mad. 

Mrs. R. {rises). You will not take my hand ? 



52 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Meg. No. {Turns away.) 

Mrs. R. You are right. For the wrong I have commit- 
ted I must make atonement, and I will. 

Meg. How? Can you give me back my husband ? 

Mrs. R. No, Clara, I cannot do that. But I can give you 
convincing proof of his love and devotion to you. He did 
not desert you. He died in the loving duty of bearing his 
child from your arms to mine. 

(Rebecca appears f rout l., stops in door-way c.) 

Meg. Dead ! My husband.'' How learned you this ? 

Mrs. R. From this {showing paper), found yesterday in 
an old tree on my — our estate, 

Meg {snatches paper). 'Tis his writing. O Hector, 
Hector, my husband ! Go on, go on. 

Mrs. R. {shows ring). Here is a ring perhaps you will 
recognize. 

Meg. Your ring ? 

Mrs. R. No, mine has never left my finger {holds up fin- 
ger) as you may see : this is yours. 

Meg. My ring, mine .-^ How came you by that .-* If you 
have any mercy, speak. 

Mrs. R. I might say more to my sister, but not to a 
stranger. 

M.Y.G {falls on her knees). O Helen, sister! have mercy. 
Speak, speak ! 

Mrs. R. {raises her). Be patient and listen. Eighteen 
years ago your husband. Hector Gray, was found dead in 
the woods, with a child fast locked in his arms. 

Meg. Living or dead — the child 1 

Mrs. R. Living. 

Meg. Thank Heaven ! 

Mrs. R. Around its neck was fastened this ring. 

Meg. And the child ? 

Mrs. R. Was taken by a good woman, and brought up as 
her own. To-day that ring fell into my hands, and for the 
first time (believe me, Clara) I became aware of that child's 
parentage. 

Meg {comes to l.) My child lives — my child ! Oh, bless 
you, Helen ! sister, where is she.-* 

Rebecca. Here, mother, here. {Runs into Meg's arms. 
Girls all appears behind.) 

Mrs. R. She speaks the truth, Clara. 



REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 53 

Meg. My daughter, my dear, dear daus^hter ! 

Rebecca. O mother ! I have so longed for this moment, 
My dear, dear mother ! 

Mrs. R. Clara, am I forgiven ? (Meg throws herself 
into her arms; they embrace j then Mrs. R. holds out her 
arms to Rebecca, and they embrace; then the three stand 
L. C. conversing) 

Mrs. D. {outside). Where's Becky? {Enter c, Rebecca 
passes to R.) Come, child, we must go home at once. To- 
morrow I must set out on a long journey to find {sees Meg) 
to find — no, no, she's found, she's found. Clara, Clara! 
(Meg runs into her arms.) Home, home at last. 

Meg. Yes, dear old nurse, to the happy home of my child- 
hood {turns and takes Mrs. R.'s hand), to the loving heart of 
my sister. 

Mrs. R. Yes, Mary, the adamantine walls have given way. 
(Rebecca goes up c.) 

Mrs. D. Ah ! I knew it would all come right at last. 
It's glorious; but there's something better to come ; some- 
thing that will amaze you {with a very important air) ; some- 
thing known only to me, — my Becky — 

Rebecca {coming between Mrs. D. and MEG/"r<?/;z behind, 
puts her arjns about their waists) — has two mothers now. 
(Dora «/z<^ Jennie come dotvn r.) 

Mrs. D. Oh, you've found it out ! 

Dora. Of course she has : the undoing of the mystery 
was Becky's doing, you may be sure of that. 

Rebecca. No it was our cake. 

Dora. It's all the same : I knew you had a hand in it. 

Rebecca. And a ring. 

{Enter Clarissa door c.from r.) 

Clarissa. Girls, dear girls, give me joy ! {Comes down to 
L. corner) Good-afternoon, Mrs. Rokeman : I couldn't come 
sooner for I had a caller, a dear, delightful caller. And who 
do you think it was ? 

Dora. Theophilus Montague ? 

Clarissa. You saucy, saucy thing! It was Deacon Sap- 
ham, that dear, good, noble, delightful man. Give me joy : 
he has asked me to share his future, to become the partner 
of his joys. The d — 

Dora. Deacon Sapham ! A widower with nine children ! 
O Miss Codman ! how could you ? 



54 REBECCA S TRIUMPH. 

Clarissa. I shall love them all. I shall call my little 
chickens under my wing and be so happy ! 

Mrs. D. Mercy sakes, Clarissa, don't be a fool ! {Crosses 
over to her.) You're not the first woman who's been through 
the woods, and taken up a crooked stick at last. 

Clarissa. He is my first, my only love. 

Dora. Except Theophilus Montagile. 

Clarissa. Oh, you little wretch ! 

{Enter r. door Katy.) 

Katy. The table's riddy, Mrs. Rokeman. {Comes down 
R. to Dora.) The nixt lether have coome, and the ring 
also. 

Dora {to Katy). Sure he's a broth uv a bye, Patsy Dolan. 
(Mrs. Rokeman r. c, Meg l. c, Rebecca c. Ettter door 
c, Gyp ; comes down to piano l.) 

Meg {to Rebecca). Am I not a happy mother, after 
the years of misery and estrangement, to find my child at 
last all a mother's heart could wish ! 

Rebecca. I have so hungered for that love so long de- 
nied me that this joyful re-union seems almost a dream. O 
mother ! happy days are before us. 

Mrs. R. Before us all, I trust. My sister takes her 
place once more among us to share with me the fortune our 
father left ; but the reigning mistress of this home will be 
the child who has united us. 

Mrs. D. That's my Becky ! 

Dora. Our Becky. 

Mrs. R. The table waits. Come let us be merry. 

Gyp {takes cake-basket from piano). Don't forget de cake. 

Dora. No, indeed ! " Rebecca's Triumph " must crown 
the festive board. For if the cooking-club had not made 
that cake, and if Becky hadn't lost her ring in it, and if — 

Jennie. If you don't stop talking, we shall never get to 
the table. 

Dora. I'm dumb. ^ 

Rebecca. And so am I, Dora, with wonder, to think that 
I, the waif of the woods, should stand among you with the 
dark mystery all cleared away, and a new life opening before 
me full of hope and promise. If, in my new station, the old 
loves and friendships be still mine, this will be a day to 
remember {taking Mrs. R.'s hand, puts arm about Meg's 
waist). There's no love like mother-love, no tie so sacred 



Rebecca's triumph. 55 

as that of kindred. These are mine, and over doubts and 
fears I triumph at last. 

Mrs. D. As I knew you would ; as you deserve. 

Dora. So say we all of us. The cooking club is proud 
of Its member, and will never forget the day it had a help- 
ing hand in — in — what was it, girls ? 

Girls {m chorus). " Rebecca's Triumph." 

{Music and curtain.) 



EUctroty^ed and printed by Rand, Avery, «5r* Co., Boston. 



Always Get the Best. 50 of the Choicest Selections in the 



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George M. Baker. 
Leigh Hxmt. 
Aldine. 

Mark Twain. 

Douglas JerrolcVs Fireside Saints, 

Whittier. 

E. C. Stedman. 



The Red Jacket .... 

Old Age 

Mahmoud 

The Closet Scene from "Hamlet" 
How he saved St. Michael's . 

Sam.son 

The Story of the Bad Little Boy who 

didn't come to Grief. 
Mr. Caudle and his Second Wife . 

Taiiler 

The Doorstep 

Old Farmer Gray gets photographed 
Mr. O'Gallagher's Three Roads to 

Learning 

The Jester's Sermon 

" The Boofer Lady "... 

Defiance of Harold the Dauntless . 

Battle Hymn 

The Story of the Faithful Soul 

" Curfew must not ring To-Night " 

The Showman's Courtship 

How Terry saved his Bacon . 

The Senator's Pledge 

Overthrow of Belshazzar 

The Hour of Prayer 

The Squire's Story .... 

The Happiest Couple 

Godiva 

Farmer Bent's Sheep-Washing 
The Deutsch Maud MuUer . 
Charles Sumner .... 
The Bricklayers . • . . 
A Stranger in the Pew . 
The Mistletoe-Bough 
The Puzzled Census Taker . 
The Voices at the Throne 
Hans Breitmann's Party . 
Rob Hoy MacGregor 

Der Drummer 

The Yankee and the Dutchman's Dog 

Popping the Question 

The Bumpkin's Courtship 

The Happy Life . . . . 

At the Soldiers' Graves . 

Nobody there 

The Fiictory-Girl's Diary 

In the Tunnel . „ . . . 

" Jones " 

The Whistler 

*' Good and Better "... 

No man is better qualified to edit this series of selections of prose and 
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and recitations, than is Mr. Baker-, for he is a practical elocutionist of high 
abilities, and from a boy has been a moving spirit in reading and dramatic 
clubs, and has written' a large number of successful plays and dramatic 
poems. — Home Journal. 

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Capt. Marryat. 

Walter Thornbury. 

Dickens's " Mutual Friend." 

Scott. 

Kiirner. 

Adelaide Procter. 



Charles Sumner. 
Barry Cornwall. 
Mrs. Ilcmans. 
Jolin Plioenix. 
Sheridan. 
Tennyson. 

Carl Pretzel. 
Carl Schurz. 

0. If. Barnes. 
Harper's Mag. 
Bayley. 

J. G. Saxe. 

1. Westioood. 
Charles G. Leland. 
Walter Scott. 



Sir Henry Woiton. 
Robert Collyer. 
Anonymous. 
Morton. 



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PHce, cloth, 60 cents; paper, 15 cents. 
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Jolui Brownjohn. 

Dickens. 

Mrs. II. A. Bingham. 

Elizabeth Kilhnm. 

R. II. Stoddard. 

John II. Yates. 

Miss Muloch. 

Shakspjeare. 

John G. Whittier. 



The Rescue .... 
The Pickwickians on Ice . 

A Picture 

Tube's Monument 

The Two Anchors . 

The Old Ways and the New . 

By the Alma River . 

Trial Scene from " Merchant of Venice ' 

The Sisters .... 

Farm- Yard Song 

The Fortunc-Hunter 

Curing a Cold .... 

In the Bottom Drawer 

Two Irish Idyls 

Over the River .... 

The Modest Cousin . 

Biddy's Troubles 

The Man with a Cold in his Head 

Harry and I . . . . 

The Shadow on the Wall 

The Little Puzzler . 

A Traveller's Evening Song . 

Calling a Boy in the Morning . 

Cooking and Courting 

A Tragical Tale of the Tropics 

The Paddock Elms . 

The Bobolink .... 

Toothache .... 

The Opening of the Piano 

Press On 

The Beauty of Youth 

Queen Mab .... 

A Militia General 

Address of Spottycus 

Our Visitor, and what he came for 

•* What's the Matter with that Nose: 

Workers and Thinkers . 

The Last Ride .... 

Baby Atlas .... 

Possession ..... 

There is no Death . 

The Learned Negro . 

Nearer, my God, to Thee 

A Short Sermon 

Goin' Home To-day . 

The Broken Pitcher . 

A Baby's Soliloquy . 

The Double Sacrihce 

Sunday Morning 

The Quaker Meeting 

" Mr. Baker deserves the thanks of the reading public for hi- indefi^tigable 
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purpose." — Xeio Haven Coiiri<r. 

" In its adaptation to^ay schools, seminaries, colleges, and home reading, 
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John G. Saxe. 
Mark Twain. 

Alfred Perceval Graves. 

Priest. 

'Sheridan Knowles. 



Sarah M. B. Piatt. 
3Irs. Ilemans. 

Tom to Ned. 

B. E. Woolf. 

Aldine. 

Atlantic Moiithly. 
P((rk Benjamin. 
Thrndo'i'e' Pin-krr. 
Romeo and Juliet. 
Thomas Corioin. 



Onr Fat Contributor. 
Rnskin . 
Nora Perry. 

Owen 3f<redith. 

Sir E. Bubcn- Lytton. 

Con grer,(itic, n a list. 

Sarah F. Adams. 

Not by a Hard-Shcll BapAist. 

W. M. Carlrton. 

Anonymous. 

Arthur William Austin. 
George A. Baker, jun. 
Samuel Lover. 



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James liussell Lowell. 
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All the Year Round. 
Detroit Free Press. 
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John Boyle O'Reilly. 

Spanish Gypsy. 
Alice Williams. 



George IT. Calvert. 
Charles J. Sprague. 



Fra Giacomo 

Bob Cratchit's Christmas-Dinner 

The First !Snow-Fall . . . , 

The Countess and the Serf . 

Aurelia's Unfortunate Young Man 

Losses . . . . r . . 

Mad Luce 

The Solemn Book-Agent 

Wliat the Old Man said 

Bone and Sinew and Brain . 

Pat and the Oysters .... 

Twilight 

The Singer 

Speech of the Hon. Pervcse Peabody on 
the Acquisition of Cuba 

Bunker Tli 11 

Two Births 

The Old Fogy Man . . . . 

Auction Mad 

The Wedding-Fee 

Schneider's Tomatoes .... 

The Wolves 

The Ballad of the Oysterman . 

The Deck-IIand and the Mule . 

A Lay of Real Life .... 

Riding Down 

The itinute-men of '75 ... 

Uncle Reuben's Baptism 

How Persimmons took Cah ob der Baby 

The Evils of Ignorance 

Scenes from the School of Reform 

Ambition 

The Victories of Peace 

For Love 

The Flower-Mission, junior 

The Sons of New England . 

The Jonesville Singin' Quire 

The Last Tilt 

The Burial of the Dane 

Appeal in Behalf of American Liberty 

The Church of the Best Licks 

The Roman Soldier. Destruction of Her- 
culaneum . . . . 

Temperance . . . . . . . Wendell Phillips, 

Roast Pig. A Bit of Lamb .... Charles Lamb. 

Similia Similibus 

Two Loves and a Life William Sawyer. 

The Recantation of Galileo .... Francis E. Raleigh. 

Mosquitoes . . ^ . . . . K. K. 

The Law of Kindness ; or, The Old Wo- 
man's Railway Signal ... 

Ode George Sennott. 

Mr. Stiver's Horse The Danbui-y Kews Man. 

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R. M. Streeter. 
Charles F. Adams. 
J. T. Trowbridge. 
Oliver Wendell ITolmea. 

Tom ITood. 
Nora Perry. 
George Wi/liam Curtis. 
Vickthurg Herald. 
St. Xicholas. 
Horace Mann. 
Thomas Morton. 
Henry Clay. 
Charles Sumner. 

Earl Marble. 

Hon. George B. Loring. 

My Opinions and Betsey Bobbet, 

Henry B. Hirst. 

Henry Howard Brownell. 

Story. 

Edward Eggleston. 

Atherstone. 



Elihu Burritt. 



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CONTENTS. 



The Tramp 

Joan of Arc 

Decoration 

Llinot's Ledge . 

Scene from " The Hunchback 

Widder Green's Last Words 

The Cane-Bottomed Chair 

The House-Top Saint 

Tom 

The Song of the Dying . 

Mv Neighbor's Baby 

" The Paper Don't Say " 

The Post- Boy . 

What is a Minority? 

Kobcrt of Lincoln . 

Daddy Worthless . 

Zcnobia's Defence . 

William Tell . 

Mary Maloney's Philosophy 

Custer's Last Charge 

Mother's F'ool . 

The Little Black-Eyed Rebel 

•' The Palace o' the King " 

Grandfather 

•' Business " in Mississippi 

The IndLin's Claim . 

The Battle-Flag of Sigurd 

The Way Astors are Made 

Mr. Watkins celebrates . 

The Palmetto and the Pine 

Pip's Fight 

Cuddle Doon . 

The Hot Roasted Chestnut 

St. John the Aged . 

TheBellofAtri 

Mr. O'HooLahan's Mistake 

The Little Hero 

The Village Sewing-Society 

He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 

The Dignity of Labor 

A Little Shoe . 

" The Penny Ye Meant to Gi' 

A Question 

The Cobbler's Secret 

The Lost Cats . 

The Pride of Battery B . 

Leedle Yawcob Sti^uss . 

Two Portraits . 

Elder Sniffles' Courtship 

Goin' Somewhere 

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But in this volume, the first of 
track, and furnishes some fifty 
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enile orator 

are made 



George M. Baker. 
l)e Qiiincey. 
T. W. Illggivi^on. 
Fitsjames 0''Brien. 
Sheridan Knowles. 

Thackeray. 

Ilrs. J. D. Chaplin. 

Constance Feninwre Woolson. 



Mrs. C. J. Despard. 

J. B. Goxigh. 

Bryant. 

Lizzie W. Champney. 

William Ware. 

Philadelphia BnUetin. 
Frederick Whittaker. 

Will Carleton. 
William Mitchell. 
Theodore Parker. 
Chronicle, Augusta, Ga. 
Everett. 

J. M. Bailey. 

Detroit Press. 

Mrs. Virginia L. French. 

Dickens. 

Alexander Anderson. 

J. Ed. Milliken. 

Longfellow. 



Rev. Newman Sail. 

E.n. 



F. H. Gassaway. 
Charles F. Adams. 



M. Quad. 
purport to furnish pieces for the 
s. But the great defect in nearly 
from the same series of authors, 
a series, Mr. Baker deviates from the beaten 
selections which have not been published 
ngs. Mr. Baker has himself written many 
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^ 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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BY GEORGE M. BAKER, 

Author of '•''Amateur Dramas;' " The Mimic Stage" " The Social Stage" " The Drawing -Room 
Stage," " Eandy Dramas," " TTie Exhibition Drama," "^ Baker's Dozen," &c. 

Titles ill tliig Type are ]Vew Plays, 
Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays. 



DHAMAS. 

In Three Acts. Cts. 

Tlie Flower of the Family, 5 

male, y, female char. 15 

7 male, 3 fe- 



Enlisted fok the Wa 

male characters 
My Brother's Keeper. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

Tlie Little Jiroivn Jug, 5 male, 3 

female char 15 

In Two Acts. 
Above the Clouds. 7 male, 3 female 

characters 15 

One Iliiiidred Years Ago. 7 male, 

4 female char 15 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 

char 15 

Bread on the Waters. 5 male, 3 female 

char 15 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 

char . 15 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 15 
Tlte Last Loaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 

O In One Act. 

Stand by the Flag. 5 male char . ' . 
The Tempter, 3 male, i female char. 



IS 



COMEDIES AND FARCES. 



A mysterious Disappearance. 4 

male, 5 female char 15 

Paddle Your Own Canoe. 7 male, 

3 fesraie char 15 

A Drop too 3fuch. 4 male, 2 female 

characters. 15 

A Little More Cider, 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char 15 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 

female char 15 

Never Say Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 15 
Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 

char -IS 

The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 15 
The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char 15 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments. 

4 male, 3 female char 15 

We^re all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe- 
male char 15 

Male Characters Only. 

A Close Shave. 6 char 15 

A Public Benefactor. 6 char 15 

A Sea of Troubles. 8 char. ..... 15 

A Tender Attachment. 7 char. ... 15 

Coals of Fike. 6 char 15 

Freedom of thk Pkess. 8 char. ... 15 



COMEDIES, $sc., continued. 

Shall Our MothtRrs Vote P n char. 15 

Gentlemen of the Jury 12 char. - . 15 

Humors of the Strike. 8 char. . . 15 

My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. . . 15 

New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 15 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 15 

The Hypochondriac. 5 char 15 

The Man with the Demijohn. 4 

char. ... 15 

The Runaways 4 char. 15 

The Thief of Time. 6 char 15 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. ... 15 

Female Characters Only. 

A Love of a Bonnet. 5 char. ... 15 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 15 

No Cure no Pay. 7 char 15 

The Champion of Her Sex. 8 char. . 15 

The Greatest Plague IN Life. 8cha. 15 

The Grecian Bend. 7 char 15 

The Red Chignon. 6 char 15 

Using the Weed. 7 char. 15 

ALLEGOKIES. 

Arranged for Music and Tableaux. 

Lightheart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 
char 15 

The Revolt of the Bees, 9 female 
char 15 

The Sculptor's Triumph, i male, 4 fe- 
male char. 15 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 
female char 15 

The War of the Roses. 8 female char. 15 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea, t male, i female 
. char, 15 

Bonbons ; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 
I female char 25 

Capuletta ; or, Romeo and Juliet 
Restored. 3 male, i female char. . 15 

Santa Claus' "Frolics 15 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave 
AND the Fair Imogene. 3 male, i 
female char • • 

The Merry Christmas of the Old 
Woman who lived in a Shoe. . . 

The Pedler of Very Nice. 7 male 
char • • •. • 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 

Too Late for the Train. 2 male char. 

The Visions of Freedom, h female 
char. 



25 



15 



T ^ Gbo. M. Baker & Co. 4i -45 Franklin St. Boston. ^ 



Baker's Humorous Dialogues. Male characters only, a* cenu. 
Baker's Humorous Dialogues.. Feniai* charactert only. ^o«" 



Holli 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

llliiililliillllH 

015 785 408 2 



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